#ur going to make me cry all over again
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kindred-spirit-93 · 16 days ago
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SOBBING GIGGLING SOBBING AGAIN OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS
Please consider checking out my epic the musical fic that I wrote about the Ithaca saga :D
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apotelesmaa · 11 months ago
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> looking for a tenma siblings relationship study
> ask the op if the study is actually about the tenmas or just treating saki like an accessory to tsukasa
> they don’t understand
> pull out an illustrated diagram explaining the difference
> they laugh and say “it’s a good relationship study sir”
> click the post
> it’s treating saki like an accessory to tsukasa
#project sekai#listen I love tsukasa as I love all the wxs members but i also love saki and cannot stand u people#don’t even get me started on when people fridge saki for contrived tsukasa angst. I’ll kill you.#i could also go on a rant abt how saki is so disrespected in general by pjsk fans#& as sm1 with a (less severe) chronic illness I do not appreciate how her illness is only explored in relation to how tsukasa feels abt it#but I think I would get too frustrated#gripping ur shoulders. read the doll story again.#also if ur talking abt tsukasa’s character & don’t mention saki u have automatically failed#before any of his relationships saki is the most important like it’s not subtext it’s literally just text#did we forget the dazzling event where he finally has a breakthrough in his role bc he talked to saki.#or the main story where he’s like yea saki is literally the reason I pursued acting#or the doll event where he’s despondent bc he thinks saki is mad at him & then when honami comes to his school#his first reaction is to sprint over like WHAT HAPPENED 2 SAKI IS SHE OK (sprints home)#or saki canonically being his no.1 fan. smh. u cannot separate them. and why would u want to. they’re so funny.#+ saki saying he made her hospitalizations more bearable. picking up on his mannerisms. crying during the doll festival bc they had a fight.#the dolls being her favorite things bc of how it symbolized their bond.#the complex tenma sibling mental illness web in general makes me crazy.#saki is like I love u but I wish u wouldn’t worry abt me so much and rely on me more & then tries to hide issues to make him not worry#tsukasa is like I’m always worried abt u and I don’t want to burden u because I feel like I need to always be a rock for u#ough. love them.
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izzy-b-hands · 2 months ago
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I will be forever grateful i can be on this new med. it's one a lot of folks also need and can struggle to have access to! It's important i be on it, especially if i start doing any vid collabs
(some of which, really, all of which, i unfortunately actually need to cancel that were in the preplanning stages, bc the election results have me wanting to wait and see how the general atmosphere of the country is before i agree to meet up with anyone. I feel bad for cancelling, but also i just can't know for sure how safe things are/might be going forward and I'd rather avoid the potential of. ya know. various not great things that could happen at a meet up, tho i would certainly hope they wouldn't. i don't feel like actually addressing them rn, u guys know what i mean)
That said, if the truvada initial side effects could fuck off asap would be so lovely. three weeks at worst, then they should be gone/much better or so i am told. really hope that's true bc losing my mornings to being dizzy and nauseous is Not Working for me lmao. im on week two, and now understand why my new doc said to call if i needed any 'cheerleading' and support to get thru the side effects, bc apparently she's done that for several ppl to make sure they actually make it thru the three weeks and keep on it (lovely of her!!)
#text post#not going to get into the other painful smack of this morning#suffice to say that medicaid does not in fact fully cover vocal therapy/training for trans ppl#even if ur docs feel incredibly certain it is#if i was making a decent bit over minimum wage at consistent hours and already had my current debts paid off mostly#then I'd happily consider paying the chunk Medicaid won't cover but as of now#it would literally be basically two paychecks if not three to cover the estimate for this first visit#and that's only if the poll would have us polling every week like we did before the election#otherwise we're guesstimating it would be upwards of 4 paychecks to cover it#I'm actually gonna get into in here bc nobody reads all my tag essays (fair valid and correct)#im really sad abt this. my voice gets me clocked a lot and while i can mostly handle like. visually being clocked#my voice giving me away genuinely makes me feel a pain in my chest. i can't get my customer service voice to go lower yet#and even if it's my usual voice I've made minimal progress on my own self done vocal study stuff#so like. no one knows how high it was compared to how it is now tho so no one actually hears it as anything near deep#which it isn't but like. there's been a slightly barely there drop of it per at least a couple ppl in my life#i was probably going to be able to learn how to sing again and find my new range. I'd fix my customer service voice#even if it would only ever be a teeny bit lower than how it is now. it would be lovely#im not gonna get too down tho bc someday hopefully I'll be able to make it happen/afford it#and for now...im doing the bad thing of not cancelling the appt yet#i will bc they're booking out for months and it isn't right of me to take a spot i know i can't keep#but. let me pretend i can for another day or two. maybe until monday. then I'll call or msg them on mychart#and let them know i just don't have the funds rn tho i do deeply appreciate that Medicaid at least pays part of it#im just not at a point where i can cover the rest but that I'll reschedule/have a new referral sent whenever that changes#...and hopefully things in this country will be of such a state that such care is still available to ppl like me.#but that's all we're saying on that bc im already having a pathetic little cry over this#(im fine the med side effects have me crying over everything lol i see a sad commercial and Instant Tears like someone died lmaooo)
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orcelito · 3 months ago
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God, this is fucking crazy
So i only have 3 more classes to take, but it'll cost the same to take 3 classes as 4 classes. So I've been thinking about taking a 4th class just for the hell of it. Something fun and/or easy.
Out of curiosity, I looked up orchestras. I was in it in my first year, but I haven't consistently played since 2016. But I still dream about being in an orchestra again. I *miss it*. So I was like. Well, what if *that* was my 4th class next semester? What If?
I looked it up. This week is the last week they're doing auditions for it. There was only one more spot free after today. And that's *tomorrow evening*.
I haven't really played my violin much in YEARS. I'm so out of practice. But apparently they don't reject anyone outright. Auditions are just for placement. So worst case scenario, I get placed in an orchestra at a lower skill level than I was at my prime. It'd still be an orchestra.
It's crazy short notice, but I don't think I'd forgive myself if I passed it up. Bc I have just one more semester before I graduate. One last opportunity to be in a school orchestra. And if I didn't do this, I'd be left with that What If forever.
So. Crazy short notice, but I have a violin audition tomorrow!!! Hahahaha
#speculation nation#im literally shaking with nerves rn but i want this so so so badly#i remember. how to play. my arms are just so much stiffer than they used to be. and my nails. man im gonna have to trim my fucking nails#at least my left hand. kinda sucks bc i like the polish i have on rn but u cant have any long nail at all for violin.#i need to play two scales of my choosing. ascending and descending in three octaves.#recommended for violin is A C or E-flat major. of course i know A and C but i'd have to look up E-flat. never did much with flats in school#then again i have that One Two Three and a Half rhythm Down. thats how id often warm myself up.#start with the base G string and just do a scale up and down (one octave). go up to the next note. do it again.#again and again until i started running out of room on the E string. & if i was Real motivated maybe id start shifting to continue.#so all id need to do is find the E flat and id be good. it all follows the same pattern.#the harder challenge will be the solo or etude. 2-3 minutes in length. only *one day* to prepare.#i have NO IDEA what id even play. i'll look in my old sheet music to see if theres anything that might work#simple enough for me to relearn on such short notice. and interesting enough to be played solo#(since i was always in orchestras it's not always the best for solo playing. tho i was also first violin section a lot#which is Basically the same as playing solo lmaooo)#if i cant find anything i do have a few sheet music books i could look in. id hate to play smth too simple#but better simple and Right than trying to do something above my current skill level.#which IRKS ME bc once upon a time i was the 4th best violinist in my high school. out of nearly 2k students.#but thats what happens when u go years without consistent practice :p ur arm gets Stiff.#im. still nervous but also thinking about the music is making me EXCITED.#it's going to be a wild time prepping for this thing but itll be over in like 5 mins and i dont even have to worry about Passing#so long as i *do it* i should get into something. i just need to push myself. do it. get out there. *play your violin*#i already cried in a public bathroom for 10 mins today and im feeling emotional Again.#not quite crying emotional tho thankfully. just. i feel like i need to climb onto a rooftop and SCREAM!!!! but like in a good way.#so so so nervous but itll be so so so worth it. i could be in an orchestra again. finally. finally finally finally.#and i STILL NEED TO FINISH THIS ASSIGNMENT.....!!!! hfkahfks today has been. a DAY.#just. keeps going through my head. i could be in an orchestra again. i could be in an orchestra again. at least one more time.
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bunnyboy-juice · 3 months ago
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;~; (tags vent)
#i feel so lonely and i dont know how to fix it#im trying to engage with people. im trying ot take space. im trying but nothing is helping#and like im hormonal so i wanna cry about it today#and like this loneliness isnt for one reason only#there's no One Thing#but so so many things making me feel like i cant connect#and even wiht making progress and even with coping and even with reminidng myself its okay to just feel bad sometimes like#i want company. i dont want online company i want irl company. i want friends. and im so miserable about the fact that i struggle to#make irl friends - not bc im not a good friend!! honestly tehre's been plenty of opportunities for me to make friends is the worst part#between work; disabilities; energy; and like interests/things to talk about its really hard to make friends (and tbh the first three-#really are the biggest drains). and i love my online friends i do i jsut. miss them all so much when i talk too much and then it hurts more#and i lost a friend group recently so im feelng really out of place#nearly everyday for the last idk. 5 months i had a group of people going “hey. love you” (even if they didnt say it verbatim daily) and lik#im so sad! and the feelings are coming out today ig cause i havenothing to do at work so im just. here#but yeah - ik part of this grief im experiencing is YET AGAIN experiencing change and loss re:friendships bc of things largely out of my#control /: and every time this happens it just brings up every single wound#im talking with my therapist about it too i just. wish friends were more permanent in my life yk?#or at least that i had friends irl still /: but all my deepest connections are all So far away#and it hurts so much to miss ppl rn im just. isolating myself#but i dont awnt to TALK. i dont want to TEXT. i dont want to hang out on a vc. i awnt to be held and loved and just talked to about anythin#other than the stresses in peoples lives. i want people to infodump to me w/o me having to Beg or Engage Correctly#i want people to tell me about themselves. jsut fucking lore dump in my inbox. its not dumping. i dont care about trauma dumping. if you do#cw i guess i jsut. im so tired. im tired of the “haiiiiii love you!!!!!” i have to do over the keyboard to have social connections#im tired of being so disabled i cant make friends bc no one wants to be friends w/ me irl and all the reasons (“ur a flake” “u cancel plans#“u never want to go out” “u never have energy” “why do you disappear when you need to recharge it makes me feel bad?” etc etc etc) all#relate to me being disabled and like.i feel like the problem. my existence is a problem. and the worst part is all iwant to do is just.#go run errands with someone. do important tasks &get a little treat to celebrate after. go to the doctor. the hospital. wherever im allowed#i want ot be a PERSON#): i jsut miss my friends#and liek im going to a thing later this month to try and make friends irl even if its just exercise friends
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quirkle2 · 1 year ago
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i am literally so hungry and yet i am like paralyzed in my seat. why can't i get up and go get food. why am i just sitting here while my stomach wallows in agony. i feel ill. jay be normal
#qktalks#be normal.#me when i can't take care of myself ??? girl just get up and go nothing is stopping u (it feels like the world is stopping me)#anyway sorry this started off as a weird vent post or whatever. u guys know what i miss? animal jam#i miss that game so much#i also played a lot of happy pets on facebook when i was little i've been genuinely considering making a new facebook just to play it again#but is it worth it. no. no is the answer to that#i remember when i played animal jam back when i was little and i finally got that one headdress accessory that was the craze back then#and my best friend at the time got so jealous abt it that they hacked into my account while i was asleep and traded it w their own account#and the next day i was like ''where did all my stuff go'' and they were like ''haha idk'' while wearing my fucking outfit#honestly that's rly hilarious. the fucking audacity#little me wasn't ballsy enough to go ''uhm i think the fuck not'' i was like just ''oh ......... okay :(''#but u bet ur ass if i was as confident back then as i am now ? i woulda maimed them#yes <3 over a video game. that's what kids do didn't u know <3#god i do miss happy pets tho#that game was so fun and silly. i deleted my facebook tho all my houses upon houses of pets r gone#u could have glowing tigers!!!!!#JUST GOOGLED HAPPY PETS THE GAME GOT SHUT DOWN . OHTHIS IS HORRIBLE#will be mourning this game all night. will be crying in the shower over it#<- acting like she's not in a depressive spiral and will absolutely NOT be showering#im holding a roblox funeral for happy pets who wants to join [has never once played roblox]#anyway weird topic-less rant over goodnight <3 to all my new followers yes i am slightly strange
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redstrewn · 2 years ago
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opens-up-4-nobody · 2 years ago
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...
#ok. ok. in less than 8hrs i have to get up and drive to the airport. and thats ya kno but im trying to b ok abt it#like im not crying and hyperventilating. ive made the drive lots of times. its just. when i have to drive anywhere it morphs into#r u ready? ur gonna cause a horrible accident destroying multiple lives in the process. r u ready? and im like no i hate that stop#so that makes it hard. and im not a bad driver. it just terrifies me thst i space out and become non reactive. like thsts not good. be#reactive pls. i just hate it. and this means i also have to drive back as well. while probably horribly jet lagged#bleh. itll b fine. unless it isnt. but itll b fine. im just scared that something will happen and i wont b able to leave. i cant even b#excited abt going on vacation bc i cant think past the possibility of something preventing me from getting to ohio bc if i let myself get#excited then it wont happen. which is magical thinking nonsense but its how it feels. ugh. dont think abt it. itll be over in 24hrs 🤞#knock on wood. idk what im gonna do while traveling tho. what am i gonna think abt? what to draw? what to plan? idk#the bad part of traveling is thst i cant take all my markers 😫 me and my 500 shitty alcohol pens lol#ill either draw a lot bc im not working or very little bc ill actually be happy for a while#oh god. my boss just sent an email. i wanna ignore it. let me rest.#bleh. last time i flew home i wanted to cry when i landed lol. well see if that happens again#i feel like i was more depressed then but im more fucked up now. but like im also more functional. well. sorta#ugh. i should finish packing#unrelated#its so funny to me when i get homesick like lol bitch u wanna go back to ohio????
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devotedlystrangewizard · 2 years ago
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the corpse of king minos is very fucking big and Scary but you can parry his punches pretty easily and thats the easiest way i can explain how good ultrakill feels
#but even when the game is actually hard and kills me several times i dont feel like quitting?#i turn it off after 2 - 3 missions because thats the amount of time it takes for my body so get so Over Excited it stops aiming right#but i havent actually felt like ragequitti g#because the game just feels so good#i can ramble about how good ultrakill feels for HOURS bro#ramblings#switching between guns. the variants. coin tossing never gets old. accidentally exploding yourself with your own shotgun#fucking. SOUND EFFECTS#that too like when you parry. that sound?? makes my autism happy#THE SLIDING SOUND AOUGH#the fact that it does sound like ur made of metal but not in a bad screechy way that makes me want to cry#in a world where realistic movement physics are the norm having this much control. god#the witcher 3 is one of my favorite games ever. just as an example. but i DREAD playing that again knowing how walking around feels#yes sometimes in ultrakill you overshoot something because youre Fast but thats also just me needing to stand perfectly right for terminals#'look we have realistic physics' ok COOL BUT ARE THEY ACTUALLY FUN TO PLAY WITH#hyperrealism is impressive in videogaming YES but its also led to this monolith. in triple a#i do want to give credit where its due once i got used to the destiny warlock jumps (blink especially) that game felt really good too#but ultrakill doesnt force me to socialize and has a much more pleasant community so im fine where i am rn. actually#ive done all totk dungeons (I THINK) except for the final chasm and let me tell you. i dont want to fight any of those bosses ever again#why js that relevant? ive already beaten 1-4 twice and will probably go for my second 3-2 run tomorrow. THIS GAME. BOSSES. AAAAAAA#i love totk but those bosses were a fucking nightmare#thats gonna be a separate post
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navysealt4t · 2 years ago
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acourtofquestions · 2 months ago
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KINGDOM OF ASH (by SJM)
Chapter 48
THE FAMILY REUINION🥹😆😭🫶& MY SOULLL
But when they reached Princess Hasar's battle tent, when they had all gathered around a map of Anielle, they had only a few minutes of discussion before they were interrupted. By the person Chaol least expected to walk through the flaps.
A moment later, Chaol was glad he was sitting down.
Nesryn breathed, "Holy gods."
Chaol was inclined to agree as Aelin Galathynius, Rowan Whitethorn, and several others entered the tent.
They were mud-splattered, the Queen of Terrasen's braided hair far longer than Chaol had last seen. And her eyes ... Not the soft, yet fiery gaze. But something older. Wearier.
Chaol shot to his feet. "I thought you were in Terrasen," he blurted. All the reports had confirmed it. Yet here she stood, no army in sight.
Three Fae males-towering warriors as broad and muscled as Rowan—had entered, along with a delicate, dark-haired human woman.
But Aelin was only staring at him. Staring and staring at him.
No one spoke as tears began sliding down her face. Not at his being here, Chaol realized as he took up his cane and limped toward Aelin.
But at him. Standing. Walking.
The young queen let out a broken laugh of joy and flung her arms around his neck. Pain lanced down his spine at the impact, but Chaol held her right back, every question fading from his tongue.
Aelin was shaking as she pulled away. "I knew you would," she breathed, gazing down his body, to his feet, then up again. "I knew you'd do it."
"Not alone," he said thickly. Chaol swallowed, releasing Aelin to extend an arm behind him. To the woman he knew stood there, a hand over the locket at her neck.
Perhaps Aelin would not remember, perhaps their encounter years ago had meant nothing to her at all, but Chaol drew Yrene forward. "Aelin, allow me to introduce"
"Yrene Towers," the queen breathed as his wife stepped to his side.
The two women stared at each other.
Yrene's mouth quivered as she opened the silver locket and pulled out a piece of paper. Hands trembling, she extended it to the queen. Aelin's own hands shook as she accepted the scrap.
"Thank you," Yrene whispered.
Chaol supposed it was all that really needed to be said.
Aelin unfolded the paper, reading the note she'd written, seeing the lines from the hundreds of foldings and rereadings these past few years.
"I went to the Torre," Yrene said, her voice cracking. "I took the money you gave me, and went to the Torre. And I became the heir apparent to the Healer on High. And now I have come back, to do what I can. I taught every healer I could the lessons you showed me that night, about self-defense. I didn't waste it-not a coin you gave me, or a moment of the time, the life you bought me." Tears were rolling and rolling down Yrene's face. "I didn't waste any of it."
Aelin closed her eyes, smiling through her own tears, and when she opened them, she took Yrene's shaking hands. "Now it is my turn to thank you." But Aelin's gaze fell upon the wedding band on Yrene's finger, and when she glanced to Chaol, he grinned.
"No longer Yrene Towers," Chaol said softly, "but Yrene Westfall."
Aelin let out one of those choked, joyous laughs, and Rowan stepped up to her side.
Yrene's head tilted back to take in the warrior's full height, her eyes widening-not only at Rowan's size, but at the pointed ears, the slightly elongated canines and tattoo. Aelin said, "Then let me introduce you, Lady Westfall, to my own husband, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius."
For that was indeed a wedding band on the queen's finger, the emerald mud-splattered but bright. On Rowan's own hand, a gold-and-ruby ring gleamed.
"My mate," Aelin added, fluttering her lashes at the Fae male. Rowan rolled his eyes, yet couldn't entirely contain his smile as he inclined his head to Yrene.
Yrene bowed, but Aelin snorted. "None of that, please. It'll go right to his immortal head." Her grin softened as Yrene blushed, and Aelin held up the scrap of paper. "May I keep this?" She eyed Yrene's locket. "Or does it go in there?"
Yrene folded the queen's fingers around the paper. "It is yours, as it always was. A piece of your bravery that helped me find my own."
Aelin shook her head, as if to dismiss the claim.
But Yrene squeezed Aelin's closed hand. "It gave me courage, the words you wrote. Every mile I traveled, every long hour I studied and worked, it gave me courage. I thank you for that, too."
Aelin swallowed hard, and Chaol took that as excuse enough to sit again, his back giving a grateful tinge. He said to the queen, "There is another person responsible for this army being here." He gestured to Nesryn, the woman already smiling at the queen. "The rukhin you see, the army gathered, is as much because of Nesryn as it is because of me."
A spark lit Aelin's eyes, and both women met halfway in a tight embrace. "I want to hear the entire story," Aelin said. "Every word of it." Nesryn's subdued smile widened. "So you shall. But later." Aelin clapped her on the shoulder and turned to the two royals still by the desk. Tall and regal, but as mud-splattered as the queen.
Chaol blurted, "Dorian?"
Rowan answered, "Not with us." He glanced to the royals.
"They know everything," Nesryn said
"He's with Manon," Aelin said simply.
Chaol wasn't entirely sure whether to be relieved. "Hunting for something important."
The keys. Holy gods.
Aelin nodded. Later. He'd think on where Dorian might now be later. Aelin nodded again. The full story would come then too.
Nesryn said, "May I present Princess Hasar and Prince Sartaq."
Aelin bowed—low. "You have my eternal gratitude," Aelin said, and the voice that came out of her was indeed that of a queen. Any shock Sartaq and Hasar had shown upon the queen bowing so low was hidden as they bowed back, the portrait of courtly grace.
"My father," Sartaq said, "remained in the khaganate to oversee our lands, along with our siblings Duva and Arghun. But my brother Kashin sails with the rest of the army. He was not two weeks behind us when we left."
Aelin glanced to Chaol, and he nodded.
Something glittered in her eyes at the confirmation, but the queen jerked her chin at Hasar. "Did you get my letter?"
The letter that Aelin had sent months ago, begging for aid and promising only a better world in return. Hasar picked at her nails. "Perhaps. I get far too many letters from fellow princesses these days to possibly remember or answer all of them."
Aelin smirked, as if the two of them spoke a language no one else could understand, a special code between two equally arrogant and proud women. But she motioned to her companions, who stepped forward. "Allow me to introduce my friends. Lord Gavriel, of Doranelle." A nod toward the tawny-eyed and golden-haired warrior who bowed.
Tattoos covered his neck, his hands, but his every motion was graceful. "My uncle, of sorts," Aelin added with a smirk at Gavriel. At Chaol's narrowed brows, she explained, "He's Aedion's father."
"Well, that explains a few things," Nesryn muttered.
The hair, the broad-planed face ... yes, it was the same. But where Aedion was fire, Gavriel seemed to be stone. Indeed, his eyes were solemn as he said, "Aedion is my pride." Emotion rippled over Aelin's face, but she gestured to the dark-haired male. Not someone Chaol ever wanted to tangle with, he decided as he surveyed the granite-hewn features, the black eyes and unsmiling mouth.
"Lorcan Salvaterre, formerly of Doranelle, and now a blood-sworn member of my court." As if that weren't a shock enough, Aelin winked at the imposing male. Lorcan scowled. "We're still in the adjustment period," she loudly whispered, and Yrene chuckled.
Lorcan Salvaterre. Chaol hadn't met the male this spring in Rifthold, but he'd heard all about him. That he'd been Maeve's most trusted commander, her most loyal and fierce warrior.
That he'd wanted to kill Aelin, hated Aelin.
How this had come about, why she was not in Terrasen with her army ... "You, too, have a tale to tell," Chaol said.
"Indeed I do." Aelin's eyes guttered, and Rowan put a hand on her lower back. Bad— something terrible had occurred. Chaol scanned Aelin for any hint of it. He stopped when he noticed the smoothness of the skin at her neck. The lack of scars. The missing scars on her hands, her palms. "Later," Aelin said softly. She straightened her shoulders, and another golden-haired male came forward. Beautiful. That was the only way to describe him. "Fenrys ... You know, I don't actually know your family name."
Fenrys threw a roguish wink at the queen.
"Moonbeam."
"It is not," Aelin hissed, choking on a laugh.
Fenrys laid a hand on his heart. "I am blood-sworn to you. Would I lie?"
Another blood-sworn Fae male in her court.
Across the tent, Sartaq cursed in his own tongue. As if he'd heard of Lorcan, and Gavriel, and Fenrys.
Aelin gave Fenrys a vulgar gesture that set Hasar chuckling, and faced the royals. "They're barely housebroken. Hardly fit for your fine company." Even Sartaq smiled at that. But it was to the small, delicate woman that Aelin now gestured. "And the only civilized member of my court, Lady Elide Lochan of Perranth." Perranth. Chaol had combed through the family trees of Terrasen just this winter, had seen the lists of so many royal households crossed out, victim to the conquest ten years ago.
Elide's name had been among them.
Another Terrasen royal who had managed to evade Adarlan's butchers.
The pretty young woman took a limping step forward, and bobbed a curtsy to the royals. Her boots concealed any sign of the source of the injury, but Yrene's attention shot right to her leg. Her ankle. "It's an honor to meet all of you," Elide said, her voice low and steady. Her dark eyes swept over them, cunning and clear. Like she could see beneath their skin and bones, to the souls beneath.
Aelin wiped her hands. "Well, that's over and done with," she announced, and strode to the desk and map. "Shall we discuss where you all plan to march once we beat the living shit out of this army?"
#NO SPOILERS PLEASE (though warning for the chapter in post & tags) this is my first read along with me & more reacts in tags etc#Chaorene Rowaelin Elorcan MOONBEAM this chapter has EVERYTHING so it needed its own post mark-if only it had Dorian than it would be PERFECT#A PROPER MAASVERSE REUINION-FULL CIRCLE-& me squealing in wivern happy in sappy like🥹 crying giggling & kicking my feet in excitement#Aelin Sardothien&HER CADRE/Court; her calling them all that — MOONBEAM finally lol how has this not come up or Lorcan tease or Rowan cheerin#she really nails these scenes-break my heart make my day-like QoS but ow&healingX100-my bbs are happy-TAB REFS-THE DYNAMICS-the wives meet!#Ivory horsehair for times of peace; the Ebony for times of war. — significance in tiny details-It was holy-the gold couch lol-SHES PREGGERS#To sit down even for a few minutes would be a blessed relief. — the difference from TOD - lol only Hasar could get interior design rn#to be the first piece of furniture in the home he'd build for his wife. For the child she carried.—shewastheoneheleastexpectedtoseeomg#holding hands even in blood-the ruler but wished to know-close to disaster-flood?that’s bad for fire/maybe she can steam-HOLY GODS INDEED#a moment later Chaol was glad he was sitting-as Aelin Galathynius Rowan Whitethorn and several others entered. Mud splattered. Too long hair#And her eyes ... Not the soft yet fiery gaze. But something older. Wearier.-the young queens gaze again-but a queen nonetheless-HE STOOD#Not at his being here as he took up his cane and limped toward Aelin But him Standing Walking-my soul needed this back-the core tale trio#The young queen let out a broken laugh of joy-broken but still joy-and flung her arms around his neck-the fact she wanted to hug him—#the ache & healing they both felt-but Chaol held her right back every question fading from his tongue.-Fire lance?-she’s shaking again#The way she gives him belief-then there she is-she remembered-her core-no one does anything alone-to say I’m happy for you & mean it vibes#hand over the locket-Yrene Towers the queen breathed as his wife stepped 2 his side The women stared at eachother-YRENE WESTFALL-notCelaena#I knew youd do it-goes both ways-Thank you-those words in this book-it was all that really needed to be said-smiling through tears#Aelin closed her eyes smiling through her own tears and when she opened them she took Yrene's shaking hands-choked joyous laughs-MY SOUL#Rowan stepped up to her side-Aelin said Lady Westfall my husband Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius-the my wife we deserved#emerald mud-splattered but bright-she sure got those emeralds dropping hints literally in EoS-pine green-Nesryn Aelin friendship core#My mate Aelin added fluttering her lashes Rowan rolled his eyes yet couldn't entirely contain his smile-next quote why I luv books/TOG#May I keep this?She eyed the locket.Or does it go in there?Its yours as it always was.A piece of ur bravery that helped me find my own#It gave me courage the words you wrote. Every mile I traveled every long hour I studied and worked it gave me courage. I thank you#A spark lit Aelins eyes&both women met halfway in a tight embrace I want to hear the entire story Aelin said Every word of it#They know everything-Ok WELL MANON lol-The keys Holy gods-the story would come then too-true queen-she bowed for them#the voice that came out of her was indeed that of a queen-THEY BOWED BACK-the portrait of courtly grace lol-the letter worked well#Aelin smirked as if the2of them spoke a language no one else could understand 2equally arrogant&proud women-hell yes I needed them#My friends-uncleLOL-my pride-AelinswinkLorcylol-how had this come about?-guttered-Rowan put a hand on her lower back Bad#gestureHasar😂-only civilized Lady Elides name had been crossed out-the1sthat escaped-CunningClear-she could see beneath to the soul#I am sworn2uWould I lie-cursedAs if he'd heard of LorcanGavrielFenrys-where to march once we beat the living shit out of this army-Vher
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dapper-comedy · 7 months ago
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loving this bizarre habit of mine where i pass out at like. 10.30 and then waking up at 2 am and not being able to go back to sleep again
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35253319 · 1 year ago
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Literally came here to rant about my mum and I see this. Plus decor cause felt like it teehee✨
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uzurakis · 7 months ago
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UR REBLOG AWAKENED SOMETHING IN ME reader giving jjk men (specifically gojo 🤫) head for the first time🗣️🗣️🗣️
S★CKIN’ IT RIGHT!
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featuring: gojo satoru. itadori yuuji. fushiguro megumi. yuuta okkotsu. (all characters are aged up)
NSFW MDNI. how they react to a nice glock for the first time!
n. keeping it short n’ nasty 😏 hope ya like it babes <3
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ITADORI YUUJI. his breath hitched, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper. face flushed in pink and forehead drenched in cold sweat already. even from the first second your lips parted around his shaft, you earned a sweet wail from your boyfriend. “a-ah, fuuuckkkk, baby,” your eyes flew open as you felt him jerking his hips forward, a lil’ frantic for your attention, making you chuckle at him. tipping his head backwards every now and then as he begged and moaned desperately.
FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. groans, breathy groans were all you could hear from him. you swirled your tongue around his tip, earning a silent gasp from your boyfriend. his emerald eyes shutting and head thrown back as you drooled over his thick veiny length. “fucking, hng, god,” he grunted, compressing his syllables into groans and biting his lower lips to make the moans sound rough. your movements were deliberate and slow. so you took a long, flat lick down his length before taking it all in again. that's when he couldn't hold it back anymore.
GOJO SATORU. he thought you were the goddamn best with your hollowed cheeks, tongue playing at his cock and gulping him until his tip reached your back as your head bobbed up and down constantly. moans furiously as your lips swallowed him whole, his favorite part when you draw back to lick along the underside of his cock. “mhmmm, so soo gooood for mee,” gojo was completely and utterly lost in the ecstasy of the pleasure. “shiiiit, yeah—just like dat, keep goin’ baby, keep, hng, going..”
YUUTA OKKOTSU. it started when you flicked your tongue around his warm top and took it all in, giving it a short suck with only your naked lips enclosing his cock. yuuta began to squeal and pant heavily as a result of your tongue's vicious movement. "b-baby, don't—ah" tears welled up behind his eyes, and all he could see were the hazy lights that dazzled them. the guy was growing hotter, and the sensitivity down below was pushing him to cry even harder.
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@uzurakis
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miupow · 2 months ago
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투모로우바이투게더 一 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐗𝐓 𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐒𝐌。
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★ pairing。txt x fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎g。⧼ 📖 ⧽ smut , pwp ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎cw。dom!txt , unprotected sex , creampie mentions , men whimpering and moaning 🙏 , praise kink , dirty talk , pet names/name calling (bitch is used in bg’s sorry) , breeding kink if you squint | to library。
notes from lia。inspired by a skz post i saw on my dash teehee >_< a little drabble thingie to help me get back into the swing of writing ! hope you enjoy~ <3
수빈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍
while soobin is a yapper outside of bed, he’s relatively quiet in it— that being said, that doesn’t mean he isn’t noisy. cute little whines and whimpers spilling out from between his plush bunny lips, staccato moans that grow higher and higher in pitch the closer he gets to his orgasm. but god he’s anything but quiet when his climax overtakes him, his eyes rolling back in his head as he moans so deep and broken, a complete 180 from his falsetto hiccups from before >< he pants like a dog as he rides through it, hips stuttering and twitching like he can’t bare the thought of staying still. his big cock spills so much cum everywhere, thick and sticky, makes a complete mess wherever it lands (in your holes, on your face, on your tits, on his own hand and belly, etc..) immediately floods you with praise once he remembers how to speak again, he’s so sweet <3
“o-oh, fuck, bunny, i’m cumming—! t-take it all, that’s it, that’s a good girl…”
연준 𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐍
the prettiest porn star moans you’ll ever hear, pouty lips open in a perfect “o” <3 he gets so stupid on pussy he can’t even think straight, babbling complete nonsense cos he can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life !! his moans get so whiny and pathetic the closer he gets to his climax, his whimpers sounding almost like he’s crying as he’s chasing his orgasm <3 lets out one long, loud, shrill pretty whine when he cums, high pitched and needy, trailing off into broken little sobs as his hips keep thrusting like he’s trying to milk himself dry, he just can’t stop!! his face gets so pink when he cums too it’s so cute :( buries his face in ur neck to hide his embarrassment as he comes down from his high hehe huffing like he just ran a marathon
“oh god, baby, i’m gonna cum, ‘m gonna cum, i c-can’t— w-where do you want it? i-inside?! oh, fuuck…”
범규 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔
throws his head back and lets out a moan so deep and broken it almost counts as a howl, so animalistic as his body shakes with his release. his pretty adam’s apple bobbing up and down his veiny neck, sucking on it will only make him cum harder <3 gets so loud you’re always worried he’ll wake up the neighbors, but if anything that’s what beomgyu wants— he loves letting everyone know how good you make him feel, how hard you make him cum with your pretty body beneath or on top of him ! won’t stop yapping even when he’s in the middle of the throws of his orgasm, stuttering out in his gravely low voice broken, nearly nonsensical dirty talk as he struggles to gain control back over his body <3 mixing up praise and degradation and everything in between, he’s just so cute you can’t help but giggle
“fuck, fuck, fuck! ‘m gonna cum, don’t fucking stop, shit—! fuck yes, take it, take this cum, that’s my girl, that’s my bitch!”
태현 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍
loses all composure once his climax starts creeping up on him, suddenly all he can think about is how badly he needs to cum!! he’s always so focused on your pleasure over his own, but once his orgasm is close he becomes nothing more than an animal !! huffing and puffing like he’s in the middle of a serious workout, so poised and focused even when his head is all empty except for pussy teehee <3 he’s always on the quieter side in bed but he gets pretty loud when he cums, crying out all high and whiny as he spills hot thick cum everywhere, preferably in your pussy, he hates letting his seed go to waste ! <3 sucking his dick is the best way to get him to get really noisy , he loses his mind with his cock in a tight wet throat <3 always grits his teeth and bares them like a predator, sharp canines on display with his pretty face all screwed up ..
“i-i— oh, fuck, fuck! i’m gonna cum if you keep doing that!”
휴닝카이 𝐇𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐀𝐈
kai gets so lost in pleasure sometimes, he just can’t help but turn into a wild animal… and it’s even worse the closer he gets to his orgasm, the tightening knot in his belly all he can think about, focus on.. practically starts using you like nothing more than a pocket pussy , big hands grabbing tightly ahold of you and moving you against him however he wants, just lay still and take it!! <3 cums so hard he cries sometimes, pretty broken moans sounding like angel choruses, rendered completely unable to speak the closer and closer he gets! just grunting and moaning, slack jawed and cross eyed, pussy drunk and fucked stupid… his cry of relief gets so loud that sometimes he has to bite down on either a pillow or your flesh, just to keep from waking everyone up !! whiny, high pitched, almost a sob.. he sounds so completely broken when he cums, fat dick spurting so much cum it’s insane.. leaves the whole bed wet and messy with both yours and his release by the time he’s done with you <3
“i’m gonna cum, i’m— im cumming, baby, oh my god, please don’t stop! o-oh fuck, i’m cumming, i’m cumming—!”
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rowarn · 1 year ago
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PLEASE, LOVE ME. PT2
simon riley / reader
FIND PART ONE || read the full thing on ao3
tags: childhood friends, friends2lovers, virgin!reader, soft!simon, protective!simon, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, MDNI
cw: reader is over 20, pining, masturbation (reader), loss of virginity, explicit workplace sexual harassment/assault, so much crying, one-sided love, not-really-unrequited love, vomiting, panic attacks, depression, crying, sex related shame, PTSD (reader), codependency but cute, self-deprecating thoughts, slut shaming, wet dream, dry humping, simon fucks up tho, reference to suicide & suicidal ideation, really nasty argument, reader hits simon sorry, apologizes tho!!!, reader struggles to orgasm, drinking, fooling around while drunk (no sex), breast play, fingering, orgasm denial, simon's a tease, p-in-v, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, creampie, mating press, missionary, simon's dirty mouth, dirty talk, wet&messy, big cock, uncut simon bc i said so, reassurance & encouragement, some pain upon penetration, clit spanking, post-coital crying!!!!!!, aftercare, briefly edited so apologies for any lingering mistakes
note: this is part two and contains the gratuitous smut portion ur all looking forward to &lt;3
you've loved him since you were children. after a confession when you were 14 went rejected, you vowed to never let your feelings be known again. but after an incident that left you hurt and fragile, you find it hard to keep that promise.
PART 2: 17.9k total: 35.8k
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Things seem to get much better between you. Your anger and resentment towards Simon diminishes significantly and you can finally say you feel comfortable around him again. You wouldn’t say you’ve forgotten everything that happened, you fear that the entire ordeal has left its scar on you. 
But you finally feel ready to truly begin to work on yourself and get to a better place mentally. 
You’re humming to yourself as you dust the surfaces in your living room, cringing in disgust when you see how dusty a particular shelf was. 
Just as you go to give it another swipe, your front door opens and Simon stumbles in, huffing from effort as he carries two armfuls of groceries. 
“Simon!” you cry out, watching with wide eyes from the stepstool you stood on as he ungracefully dropped them on the floor, “Why did you bring them all up here like that?”
“Didn’t wanna make another trip,” he explained lamely, flexing his hands as he looked over all the bags.
“Okay, I guess,” you chuckle softly. 
Simon finally looks up at you, “What are you doing?”
“Cleaning,” you shrug, waving the duster at him, “I haven’t felt like doing it until now so might as well get it done when I feel like it!”
He’s quiet for a moment before he steps over the bags of groceries.His boots thunk heavily on the floor as he approaches you. Suddenly, he wraps an arm around your middle. You squeak in surprise when he very carefully and gently pulls you off of the stool and places you back onto your feet. 
Then he walks away like nothing happened, snatching up a couple groceries up from the floor to take to the kitchen. 
You decide not to comment on his behavior and simply choose to grab a couple of bags and help him out. When you get inside the kitchen, he’s already stuffing things into the refrigerator. You place the bags down and go back to pick some more up, transferring all the bags of groceries near him so he can easily put them away. 
You notice one of the bags has some piping, lightbulbs, wires, and other things you can’t identify. 
“What’s all this?” you ask, holding the bag out to him when he turns to look.
He grunts, closing the fridge, “Gonna fix some shit around here.”
“Why?” you ask, scrunching your nose up as you place the bag on the counter.
“Shithole needs it,” he mumbles, moving to start opening the cabinets, “Since you refuse to let me move you out of this place, I’m gonna make sure it at least functions.”
You hum and nod your head. Simon had attempted to convince you to move out and into an apartment of his own choosing but you flat out refused. He was already paying the rent on this place, you weren’t going to let him spend more money for a different place – because you know Simon would choose somewhere that would cost a lot more than your current flat. 
But you couldn’t deny, the idea of Simon doing a little manual labor around the apartment made your heart flutter in your chest. The way he took care of you and was willing to get his hands dirty just to make sure you were comfortable. The little domestic tasks you could imagine him doing. 
It almost felt like something a husband would do. 
You felt your cheeks flush immediately at the train of thought. How embarrassing and juvenile to think something like that
“I can cook dinner!” you mumble after clearing your throat. 
Simon actually has the audacity to laugh. You frown as he shakes his head, closing the cabinet before turning to you. 
“Absolutely not,” he says.
Your jaw drops, “Why?!”
“Because,” he steps closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before breezing past you, “You’re a terrible cook, love.”
You open your mouth to retort but can only huff. Because he’s right. The last time you tried to make dinner for the two of you, you had confused cayenne with cinnamon and made the most diabolical stew known to man. He vowed to never let you cook anything that required more than boiling water since. 
You pout your way back to the living room, mumbling a petulant, “Fine…” as you went.
You didn’t catch the broad grin on Simon’s face as he watched you sulk away. He was just happy to see your vibrance returning before his very eyes.
True to his word, however, he began to do some random odd jobs around the apartment. He changed that damn leaky faucet in the kitchen first. He would never admit it but it was beginning to drive him completely mad. He swore he could hear it dripping into the metal sink basin in his dreams.
Then he fixed the piping in the bathroom so they would stop all that god-awful clanking that practically woke up the entire complex. But after that, he figured he might as well fix the piping under the sinks as well.
That’s when you saw him. On his back, big body sprawled out as he worked underneath the cabinet, wrench in hand and soft grunts of effort coming from him. His t-shirt rose up just a bit, exposing a small stretch of tummy and his happy trail. Every once in a while, you could see his muscles flex and it made your mouth go completely dry. 
You felt like a Victorian man seeing his first ankle on a woman. Ridiculous. 
Sure, you’d seen Simon shirtless countless times – hell, you walked in on him completely naked once or twice. But there was something particularly…delicious about him like this. Unaware, casual, just doing work. 
It made a swell of heat settle in your abdomen. You squeezed your thighs together as you watched him. His biceps flexed and bulged, making the sleeve of his t-shirt grow taut around his skin. His muscles moved underneath the tattoos inked into his skin. 
You dragged your eyes down his body, past his pecs, past the sliver of tummy. You imagined yourself crawling between those thick thighs and unbuckling his belt, tugging at the button of his jeans. You imagined getting to see his cock chub up inside his boxers before you would pull it out and wrap your lips around the leaking tip. 
Salty, you imagine. You’ve always heard that men’s cum and pre-cum would be salty. Would Simon’s taste as bad as some of your friends had told you back in highschool? You hoped not. You couldn’t imagine not enjoying every part of him – even his cum.
You wanted him to shoot in your mouth, let you taste it. You wanted to milk it out of him, give him no choice but to cum down your throat.
“Are you just going to stand there or do you need something?” his voice startled you out of your thoughts.
Wide eyed, you looked to meet his gaze but you found he wasn’t even looking at you, still staring at the piped overhead.
“Um,” you cleared your throat, floundering for an excuse as to why you were ogling him like a piece of meat, “I didn’t want to interrupt you. I-I was just wanting to make sure the shower was okay to use?”
He grunts, letting out a soft sigh  before pushing himself out from under the sink, closing the cabinet before wiping his brow with the back of his hand, “Yeah, go ahead and shower, love.”
You give him a tight-lipped smile, casting one last glance to see that his t-shirt had fallen back into place. Disappointing. 
You trudge out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. Softly, you close the door and turn on the shower. The pipes don’t clang when the water shoots through them. It brings a smile to your face.
Once you’re stripped and standing under the warm spray, you let your hands wander your body. First, you cup your breasts, watching your nipples harden under your own touch before you slide one hand between your thighs. There’s a slickness between your folds that's distinctly different from the water, it’s slippery and sticky. But it makes your touch against your clit easy. 
You bite your lips to keep quiet, scared to death that Simon could hear you from under the sound of the water. You make quick, tight little circles against your clit. The bud is hard and twitches under your fingers. It makes the breath stutter out of your chest. 
You need more room, you realize, hiking your foot up onto a shelf. It spreads you open just a little more, gives you a little more access for your fingers to play. You sigh, head tipping forward to watch as you circle your own clit. 
But the more you touch yourself, the faster that tingling, warm sensation dissipates. You huff through your clenched teeth, frustrated. 
Usually, you could at least feel the beginning of that peak forming but this time…not even close. So you shamefully close your legs and go about your shower as if nothing happened, taking care to wash the slick from between your thighs especially.
As you lay in bed that night, Simon breathing deeply beside you as he slept, you were lost in thought. 
Surely, you were in the wrong for thinking about Simon like that – for getting wet at the sight of him. And then sleeping soundly next to him as if you weren’t some kind of pervert. Maybe you should just confess and apologize to him. 
No. You quickly admonish that thought, glancing over at his prone form. You couldn’t bear to see him be disgusted by you. He’d already rejected you years ago, finalized it and put the nail in the coffin so you would never be dumb enough to do it again. 
What would he do if he found out about your…attraction to him? He practically lived with you now, after everything happened. He was in your flat more than he was on base now. It was only a matter of time before he caught you with your hands dancing in your pants. 
Your cheeks flushed at the idea. Part of you thought it hot – for him to find you needy like that, desperately playing with your clit as you try to make yourself cum. 
But on the other hand, you could see the wrinkle of disgust in his brow and sneer on his face as he walked away. That outcome was not worth it, you decided. 
With a sigh, you rolled over so your back faced Simon and closed your eyes for the night. 
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You both should have known better that the fragile peacefulness between the two of you was just that – fragile, balancing on a delicate precipice that could shatter at any moment. 
The ring of his phone was the break. 
“Answer that for me, love!” he called from the kitchen where he was busy preparing dinner. 
You leaned forward to check the number. It wasn’t in his contacts but Simon never got calls from people unless he knew them. So you slowly slid the button over and accepted the call. 
“Hello?” you mumbled into the phone.
There was a beat of silence before a woman’s voice responded in kind, “Hello?”
“Um…” you swallowed down the apprehension that settled in your chest, casting a glance towards Simon’s back as he stood over the stove, “Who may I ask is calling?”
“I’m looking for Simon,” she said, sounding much more coy than a second ago. She knew his real name and that irked you. People from work always referred to him as Ghost, only those he considered trustworthy or friends were privy to calling him Simon. 
“Um, he’s busy at the moment, can I take a message?” you ask, loud enough for Simon to hear in the kitchen if he was interested in intervening. But he didn’t move. 
“Sure!” she giggled, “Tell him that Victoria really wants to see him again and to call me so we can!”
You swallowed around the lump in your throat, “Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll let him know…”
“Thank you,” she cooed in a sultry tone, “Oh! And tell him I really had a great time last time we were together and that I’m looking forward to a repeat performance.”
“Yeah. I’ll do that,” you assured, hoping you didn’t sound as tense as you felt. 
She giggled before the call disconnected and you were left glaring at his stupid stock phone wallpaper.
“Who was it?” Simon comes to the archway of the kitchen, leaning against the wall. You can’t hear anything cooking anymore so you assume he’s finished dinner.
“Victoria,” you spit the name out like it’s poisonous, “Says she wants to see you again and she had a fantastic time with you last time.”
Simon shifts where he stands, looking down at his feet before looking back up to you, “Alright. I’ll call her back later.”
That sends knives straight through your heart. It aches so badly that you want to bite your own tongue off to make it stop. 
Jealousy, you realize. You’re fucking jealous. Some girl calls and asks for his dick and he just says okay? 
He’s not yours, you tell yourself. He can fuck whoever he wants. 
But that does nothing to quell the inferno raging inside you. 
There’s other feelings brewing inside you; rejection, fear, loss.
You feel bitter that you’re right there and he would still never choose you. He’ll always choose someone else because he doesn’t see you like that. It feels like he’s throwing it in your face, just spitting at you to show you that he doesn’t love you like you love him. He never has and he never will. You’ll never be an option to him because he doesn’t want you.
Then you’re scared he’s going to leave you. He’s going to go to this Victoria chick and leave you all alone so he can get his dick wet again. Just like last time. Maybe he’ll like it so much he wants to stay with her. Maybe he’s going to leave you behind so he can start a new, happy life without having to worry about the dead weight that’s been dragging him down since he was 8. You. His responsibility. His problem. 
You’re so scared that he’s going to be ripped from your grasp. That you’re going to lose him to someone else and it’s going to be you and your pathetic one-sided love for the rest of your life. Fuck, you’ve loved him since you were 4. You’ve loved him for so long that it makes you nauseous to think about. How many people loved one person for this long? 
Please, you wanted to cry to him, please love me. 
Please, just love me back.
“So you’re gonna go then?’ you finally find your voice, bitterness and resentment thick in your tone, “You’re gonna leave me to go to a booty call again?”
He stands up straight at that. Arms cross over his chest, he watches that way you glare at him, heated and teary-eyed. Hurt. 
He knew you still weren’t over the way he left you that time – when you needed him the most. You’d been ignoring the residual hurt that lingered, intent on pretending that everything was fine. He had been doing his best to make up for it but it always felt like one step forward and two steps back with you. 
“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures softly, “I’ll call her back to tell her that it won’t happen.”
He tries his best to remain level-headed and soft, to be reassuring like he knows you need. But your expression doesn’t change. You continue to glare at him with that furious, hurt look in your eyes. 
Suddenly, you stand. 
“I don’t believe you,” you hiss, turning your back to him, storming down the hallway. 
He almost winces when he hears how hard you slam the bedroom door. He thinks about going back there to talk to you but decides against it. You need some space to calm yourself down. 
He eats the dinner he made for both of you alone, putting your half in the fridge for later. He goes about the apartment, locking the door and turning out all the lights. Then he gets to the bedroom door and goes to turn the knob and it doesn’t budge. 
Despite himself, he laughs. He jiggles the knob, jerks the door a little harder like it’ll open with a bit of force. And it might, it’s a flimsy ass door if he’s being honest – he’s forced bigger and heavier doors open before. 
He snaps your name, humor gone from his voice. You don’t answer. 
“Open the damn door,” he snaps, trying the knob again. He gets silence in return so he slams his fist against the surface. The sound is loud enough that it makes his own ears ring, “I said open the door. I’m not playin’ this game with you, sweetheart.”
“Sleep on the couch, Simon!” he hears your wobbly voice call back. Of course you’re in there crying, he thinks.
“I’m not sleepin’ on the fuckin’ couch,” he hisses, leaning his forearm against the door, resting his head against it with a sigh, “Open the door and let’s talk.”
“Don’t wanna talk to you,” you whine, bratty as all hell. He would have laughed if he wasn’t so damn pissed, “Why don’t you go sleep with Victoria since you like her so much.”
You don’t know why you say that last part. You don’t want him to go to her, you don’t want him to go anywhere. The thought of it brings more tears to your eyes. 
Simon is silent on the other side of the door for a long while. You almost think he walked away and succumbed to the couch. You wouldn’t actually let him sleep on that awful thing, of course. You just…you don’t know what the end goal here is, if you’re honest.
“Fine,” he finally spits, “If that’s what you want, I’ll fuck off and find Victoria.”
You hear the floorboards creak under his weight as he walks away. You sit up straight in bed at that, eyes wide as you listen to him stalk through the house. You swear you hear the jingle of his keys and that’s what has you lurching out of bed in a panic.
You almost trip over the sheets as they tangle around your legs but you manage to free yourself and wrench the door open.
“Simon!” you practically shriek, rounding the corner of the hallway to find him standing with his back to you, facing the door.
He’s got his hoodie and mask on, boots firmly on his feet and keys in hand. He stands still, back straight as his shoulders rise and fall with his breathing. But he waits.
“Don’t go,” you find yourself whimpering, “‘M sorry. Come to bed, okay?”
He doesn’t move and that makes your heart pound in your chest. You know he’s pissed, can see it in the way his fists stay clenched at his sides. His fingers twitch and he makes a move for the doorknob and you surge forward, wrapping yourself around his other arm, yanking him away from the door as hard as you can. 
He lets your weight knock him off balance, lets you drag him away from the door. He lets you tug him down the hallway, sniffling and crying as you do. 
“J-Just…” you find yourself frantically tugging his mask off, tossing it away before you rip the hem of his hoodie up. He doesn’t help you or fight you as you try to take it off of him. He just stares blankly at you, like he’s assessing you. You hate it. “G-Get ready for bed, okay? Just…we can go to sleep.”
“Why do you make this so fuckin’ hard for me?” he finally breaks his silence, the question cold and calculating. Like he’s tired. Exhausted, “I keep tryin’ to make it up to you. But every time something goes wrong, you throw everything back in my face and you act like you hate me again. I can’t keep…” he trails off, shaking his head before he sits at the foot of the bed, hands clasped together and head hanging between his shoulders.
“I love you,” you blurt out, a sob breaking out of your lips as you do. Simon doesn’t move. Your hands cover your eyes, as if being blind to his reaction will make the rejection hurt less, “I love you and i-it just keeps messing me up inside. I’m sorry.”
“You love me?” he asks, still no emotion in his voice. 
When you peek at him, he’s in the same position as before, hands clasped, elbows on his knees, head bowed. You have no idea what expression he’s wearing and you’re scared to find out.
“Yes,” you hiccup, sniffling softly, “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?” he asks softly, almost solemnly.
“I promised,” you cry, another choked sob escaping you. 
“Promised..?” he doesn’t sound cold anymore, just confused, “The fuck’re you talkin’ about?”
“W-When I was 14,” you whimper, shame filling you as you recall your now-broken promise, “I-I told you I liked you and you said you didn’t feel the same. You told me to never bring it up again and I promised I wouldn’t. B-But…” you sobbed again, stopping yourself from finishing the sentence.
“Fuckin’ hell…” he breathes, bringing his hands to his face, scrubbing them up and down vigorously in a way that looks like it hurts. Then he laughs. 
He fucking laughs. 
It’s like your worst fears come to light. He’s laughing at you, at your confession. At your feelings. A fresh wave of tears fill your eyes and fall down your cheeks. You bite your lips to keep from making your sobs audible anymore. You didn’t want him to laugh at that too. You hang your head, wringing your hands together behind your back anxiously as Simon quiets down. 
“Shit,” he breathes, getting to his feet. He stands before you, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. He frowns when he sees the utter despair on your face, the heartbreak in your eyes, “No, baby. No, no. I wasn’t laughin’ at you.”
Baby. You catch onto it. He’s never called you that before. 
You dash the spark of hope that it causes. 
He rubs his thumbs under your eyes, wiping the tears away. 
Then, he leans forward and slots his lips against yours. 
It’s like fireworks explode in your chest. Your heart races so fast that you feel lightheaded. You can’t even respond to the kiss in time before he pulls away, your mind is moving too fast for you to process any meaningful thought. But he kissed you. 
Simon kissed you.
“What?” you finally manage to whisper, looking up with wide, shocked eyes, “Why did you..?”
He looks confused for a second, still cupping your cheeks as he looks into your watery eyes, “You really have no idea?” Your brows furrow immediately and you shake your head, “How I feel about you?”
“You feel..?” you dumbly repeat. 
He smiles softly, thumb rubbing softly over your cheekbone, “You really think I don’t feel the same?”
“B-But when…when we were kids I…” you stumble over your words, the truth you’ve believed this entire time seemingly false, “You s-said you didn’t feel the same.”
“Jesus, love,” he huffs softly in disbelief, “You were fourteen. I was seventeen. You were way too fuckin’ young for me, it wouldn’t have been right.”
“B-But then…” you stutter, reaching up to wipe your cheek, “When did you..?”
He shrugs, “Not sure exactly. Suppose sometime after you turned 20 was when I realized I felt somethin’ for you.”
“So you really…” you whisper, snagging your hands into his hoodie to pull him close, “You really…I mean…”
“Love you?” he smiles softly, “Of course I do.”
You lean forward and press your lips to his. He hums, wrapping one strong arm around your middle to pull you even closer. His lips work magically over yours, taking control of the kiss with ease. You easily melt into it, following his lead. It’s not as easy as you thought it would be and you hope Simon doesn’t notice. 
But he does, of course he does. 
He pulls away and smooths the palm of his hand down your cheek before it comes to rest on your jaw. His thumb slides over your bottom lip and he hums.
“You ever kissed before?” he asks, voice calm and level with no teasing to it at all.
Still, heat explodes all over your face. Embarrassment overrides the euphoria of your requited feelings. You try to pull away but Simon’s much stronger and he won’t let go unless he wants to. 
“Hey, don’t run,” he coos softly, turning your face to look back up at him, “I was just askin’.”
“No,” you mumble, still burning with embarrassment, “I-I’ve only ever liked you so…”
“Fuckin’ hell…” he whispers, letting you step back just a bit so he can look over you, “Is that right?”
“You should know that,” you mumble, feeling small under his scrutiny, “You know everything about me.”
“Didn’t think datin’ history was somethin’ you felt like sharin’,” he shrugged off.
“Well, now you know,” you mutter, your gaze glued to the floor.
“That I do,” he hums in agreement, reaching out to brush a hand down the length of your arm. 
A soft, quietness falls over the two of you. You’re not sure what to do and it seems he’s content where he is. He’s watching you, tracking every little shift and fidget you make until he finally seems to take pity on you.
“Let’s get to bed,” he says softly, giving you a soft nudge towards the bed. 
You take the opportunity to dive into bed, yanking the blanket over you as Simon strips himself out of his boots and hoodie. You go to look away as he yanks his belt free with practiced hands but you can’t seem to. He slips the belt out of the loops and drops it on the dresser before unbuttoning his jeans and slipping them off. 
Your mouth waters at the sight of him in a tight pair of navy boxer-briefs slung low on his hips. You can make out the shape of his–
“Enjoyin’ the view?” he mumbles half-heartedly as he turns to root through the dresser to find some sweatpants. 
“Sorry…” you mutter shamefully at being caught. 
He chuckles under his breath, pulling the sweats on before he rounds to his side of the bed and drops onto the mattress, “Nothin’ to be sorry about.”
He leans over you and turns out the tableside lamp. Then he settles into his pillow with a soft sigh.
“Si..?” you whisper.
“Yeah?” you can hear the smile in his voice.
“Are we um…” you clear your throat, “I mean like…are we…together now..?”
You feel him roll over and toss his arms around you. You squeak when he tugs you towards him roughly, securing you against his chest before he kisses the top of your head.
“Do you want to be together?” he asks, muffled by his lips pressed against you. 
“Yes,” you whisper quickly, wrapping yourself around him almost possessively.
He tilts your head up and carefully slots his mouth over yours again. You sigh happily at the feeling. 
You notice that he keeps it a lot slower than he had before, moving his lips carefully against yours. Like he’s trying to make it easier for you to keep up. It makes your cheeks flush again but you sink into the pillow and let him kiss all he wants as you do your best to match his movements. 
His body shifts, torso hovering over you as he rests his weight on his elbows on either side of your head. Your hands rest against his shoulders and simply get lost in the kiss. 
After a moment, he deepens the kiss, sinking into you with his chest pressed against yours. You whimper and wrap your arms around his neck, carding your fingers through his cropped hair. 
One of his hands moves, coming to grip your waist, fingers sliding up the hem of your shirt. It’s like a dream come true. Literally. 
All those nights you spent with your hand between your thighs, thinking of him. Thinking of him touching you like this – with his hand sliding your shirt up a little further every second. You even feel that familiar wetness soaking your panties.
Then why was your heart racing from anxiety instead of excitement? Why did you feel a fearful tremble setting in your thighs, as if your knees would be knocking together if you were standing. Why were you scared?
Before you can stop yourself, you’re shoving your hands against his chest with a weak, “No!”
Simon is off of you in seconds but you can feel his gaze on you in the darkness. You struggle to catch your breath as you lay there, heart pounding in your ears. Your head hurts, you realize with a wince.
“Um…” you find yourself attempting to appease him, “I-I don’t…I’m sorry, I…”
“It’s alright,” he whispers sincerely, settling down into bed with a content hum, “Nothin’ to worry about, love.”
You scoot closer to him and hesitantly place your head on his chest. Simon’s arm wraps around your back and tucks you even more snug against him. You close your eyes and will yourself to relax and sleep as you feel Simon’s comforting hand rubbing your back. 
Neither of you talk about it in the morning. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. You don’t bring it up, even though you want to, and Simon doesn’t try touching you like that again. Part of you wants him to, you’ve been dreaming about his touch for years but once you finally get it, you freak out?
You can’t stop beating yourself up over it. 
But then you think about the anxiety that it had caused. The apprehension. How uncomfortable it felt – how you wanted his hands off of you. 
You sighed, flopping onto your side on the couch where you sat. Your mind was buzzing annoyingly from your thoughts. 
Regardless of your problems, you were happier than ever with him. He was finally yours. Wholly and truly yours. It was bliss. 
“Got a call,” Simon says, snapping you out of your daze, “Gotta leave.”
That makes you sit up, “Leave?”
You finally notice that he’s got his bag packed – the one he only takes when he’s getting deployed. You’re on your feet in seconds, following him to the door. He’s wearing his skull balaclava so all you can see are his eyes – sad, apologetic.
“H-How long?” you ask, unable to ignore the ache in your chest as you watch him.
“Few weeks, probably,” he mutters, placing the bag down so he can tuck his feet into his boots.
He straightens up with a grunt before turning to you. He sighs, gloved hands cupping your cheeks when he sees how sad you look – like a kicked puppy. You wish you could feel his bare hands on you but can’t find it in you to ask. 
“I don’t want you to go,” you find yourself mumbling.
It’s selfish and even a bit cruel of you to voice that desire. Simon’s thumb strokes your cheek in that sweet way he always does and you melt into him. He lets you thump your head against his chest as you suppress your cries, biting your lip so you can keep your tears at bay. 
“I know,” he softly whispers, stroking your back as you cling to him, “I know, but I have to.”
“I know,” you mumble, finally looking up at him. You know your eyes are glassy and you make sure to blink back the tears so they never overflow, “Just be safe and come home, okay?”
He lifts his mask up just enough to expose his lips before he leans down to kiss you. It’s a whole body experience this time. He clutches you against him like his life depends on it, gloved hands fiercely gripping the back of your t-shirt. His lips move smoothly against yours, hand coming up to cup your jaw so he can tilt your head and pull you even deeper into his kiss. He pulls away when he needs to breathe, smiling when he sees the dazed, lovesick expression on your face. He tugs his mask down and lets you go but you stay as close to him as possible. 
“Make sure you stay warm,” he coos, “Gonna start gettin’ real cold in a couple days.”
“I will, Si,” you assure him.
“Left some cash for you to do your shoppin’,” he adds, “I know you’re a shit cook but I left a list of some easy recipes. Don’t burn the flat down.”
You snort and playfully smack his shoulder, “I’ll just buy some cup noodles in that case.”
He rolls his eyes, pinching your side to make you gasp from the ticklish feeling, “Don’t even think about it.”
Your grin falters when his phone makes that obnoxious beeping noise that lets you know it’s something urgent. He sighs, the tranquil happiness between you two broken immediately. He kisses your forehead through his mask and pulls the front door open.
“Keep this locked,” he mutters, stepping past the threshold, “I’ll be home soon.”
He closes the door and you’re left with an emptiness that overcomes you. You’ve always been scared for him when he has to go off on missions – you know that his job is extremely dangerous and he could lose his life at any moment. That thought alone makes a nauseous pit settle in your stomach. You push down the feeling of bile rising in the back of your throat and click the lock on the door with a sigh before you go about your day, trying your best to keep your mind off of him and where he might be in the world. 
True to his word, however, the temperature drops bitterly cold within 2 days after he leaves. There had already been a chill in the air that drove you to turn the heating on just a bit but now it was full blast. But now, it was dipping to freezing and you were anticipating the arrival of snow soon enough as well. 
You wake up one morning, however, and your apartment is bitterly cold. You sit up, confused before climbing out of bed. Your feet are immediately freezing as you step onto the floor. You hiss, wrapping your arms around yourself as you stumble over to the radiator in your room. You touch it and find absolutely no heat emanating from it. 
All the radiators are the same. Absolutely no heat. 
You curse, realizing you have no idea what you’re supposed to do. You curl up on the couch under a heavy throw blanket as you type with bitterly cold fingers into Google, looking for anything that can help you. But it’s to no avail. You can’t understand a thing. 
Your next thought is to call the building manager but you know that’s pointless. The useless man never actually helps with any work for his tenants. 
There’s no way in hell that you can afford to call someone to come and fix the problem. You have money for groceries but if you spent that you wouldn’t have anything to eat. You sigh, resolving yourself to bundling up and trying to stay as warm as you can. 
You pile all the blankets you have into bed and pick out only your thickest, warmest sweaters. 
This is going to be miserable, you think. 
The snow comes just a short week later and it feels even colder. You venture out of your flat to go to the grocery store, picking up ingredients for the dishes Simon wrote down for you and also some cans of soup that you can cook to stay warm. You also throw some boxes of tea and some hot chocolate in with it, figuring why not. Warm drinks will help. 
It’s almost 3 weeks of living like that. It’s miserable and makes your bones ache from how stiff the cold makes you feel. You make sure to eat nice, hot food to keep yourself warm and make frequent cups of warm drinks so you can keep your hands warm for as long as you can. You do your best. 
The worst is showers, though. When you’re standing under the blisteringly hot spray, it’s bliss. But the second you step out and your wet body is hit with the freezing air, you couldn’t have felt more miserable. 
The night Simon walks through the door, he finds you bundled up on the couch sipping a cup of hot chocolate. 
“Simon!” you gasp excitedly, tossing the blankets off to take a running leap at him. 
He huffs contentedly when he catches you in his arms, letting you embrace him for as long as you need. He strips his mask off and brings you in for a delicate kiss.
“Let me wash up,” he mumbles, stalking through the apartment.
“Um, before you do, Si,” you catch him at the entrance to the hallway. He turns to you and looks at you with a brow raised, “The um…heating is broken so…just letting you know when you come out of the shower it’s gonna suck.”
“Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t dealt with before,” he mutters and pauses, “The fuck you mean it’s broken?”
“Heating cut off a few weeks ago…” you shrug, wrapping your arms around yourself as you start to feel the cold creep in again.
“A few weeks ago?” he hisses, running a stressed hand through his hair, “Fuckin’ hell. You didn’t call someone to fix it?”
You pout as he raises his voice, clearly frustrated, “I couldn’t afford it, Si! I had the money you gave me for food but I wasn’t gonna spend that to get the heating fixed. You know the building manager is a piece of shit, not like he was gonna call someone.”
He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, seemingly thinking something over. Then he turns on his heel and storms into the bathroom, slamming the door.
“I’m sorry, Simon!” you call through the door, “I didn’t know what else to do! Please, don’t be mad.”
The shower turns on and all you can do is look up and sigh in exasperation. The second he’s home and he’s already pissed at you. 
You sulk over to the couch and flop down, tossing your blankets over you as you grab your mug. The hot chocolate is still warm but not as hot as it was. It’ll have to do.
Simon comes out of the shower, gets dressed warmly, and joins you in the living room. He doesn’t even look at you as he makes a move for his bag that he left by the door. You almost think he’s going to scoop the bag up and storm out the door. You sit up, ready to stop him but instead, he stoops down and zips it open. He pulls out his wallet and approaches you. 
“What are you doing?” you mumble, watching him flip the thing open.
It’s old and worn, a simple black leather wallet. He’s had it for as long as you could remember and you’ve put the poor thing through the washer and dryer so many times that you’re shocked it's still intact. 
He pulls out a bank card and promptly hands it to you. Your brain stutters to a stop as you look at it.
“Take it, fuck sake,” he mutters. He sounds annoyed but the way he looks away and his ears turn pink you can tell he’s…shy. 
Simon Riley is fucking shy right now.
You take the bank card out of his hand and look at it, flipping over in your hands, “Why are you giving this to me?”
“So you can use it,” he mumbles, slamming his wallet shut and tossing it onto the table, “That way, in case anything happens you can withdraw from my account for what you need. If an emergency happens and I’m not around, use it.”
“Simon…” you mumble, looking up at him, “Are you sure..?”
“Course I’m sure,” he scoffs, taking a seat beside you before softly rattling off four digits.
“Huh?” you dumbly ask.
“It’s my pin,” he responds, grabbing one of the blankets you have piled on the couch and tossing it on his lap.
“That’s my birthday…” you say softly as you repeat the numbers over and over in your head, “Your bank pin is my birthday?”
He snatches the remote up from the table and turns the TV on without another word. But you can see how pink the tips of his ears are. It makes you beam and before you know it, you’re curling snugly into his side. 
“Love you, Si,” you whisper, earning a kiss to the top of your head in response.
Simon calls the next morning to have someone come by and fix the damn heating. You listen to the man rattle off some information to Simon about what the problem was but it makes virtually no sense to you so you resolve yourself to sitting on the couch and waiting until it’s warm again. 
But even when it’s nice and toasty inside, you still plaster yourself to Simon’s side, snuggling as close to him as you possibly can.
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“I want you to meet my team,” Simon says one morning while he’s making some eggs. 
You’re standing by the toaster, waiting for it to pop up but his words make you turn to him, “You mean 141?”
“Who else?” he huffs, flipping one of the eggs. It sizzles loudly in the pan, “They wanted me to go out with them tonight. Thought you could join us.”
“Really?” you realize how incredulous you sound and then try again, “I mean really? That’s okay with you?”
He nods, plating the eggs, “I think it’s time they met you.”
“I-I’d love to,” you say, unable to hide the excitement you feel. 
You catch a slip of a smile on Simon’s face before the toast pops up and distracts you. 
You have to dig into your closet that evening, after a shower, to find something nice to wear. You figure an occasion like this calls for something a little nicer than just jeans and a t-shirt like you usually wear. But you can’t find much of anything. 
“What’re you huffin’ about in  here?” Simon asks when he walks in, towel wrapped around his waist. He’s still dripping wet from the shower and you can feel the way your mouth fills with saliva at the sight. 
“I uh…don’t know what to wear…” you respond, turning your back to him just as he slips the towel off. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, imagining Simon completely naked behind you.
“Wear those nice jeans you got,” he mumbles, grunting as he gets himself dressed, “And that little blue top you got.”
“The cropped one?” you ask incredulously, a brow raised as you turn to him. He’s got some jeans on now and he’s meticulously unfolding a black t-shirt so he can put it on, “I haven’t worn that in a while, how’d you even remember it?”
He shrugs, the muscles in his back rippling with his movement before he tosses the shirt over his head and pulls it down, covering his skin once again, “It’s cute. We’re just goin’ to the pub, love.”
“Okay,” you mumble, reaching into the back of your closet to pull the little shirt out, “If you’re sure this will be okay.”
“I’m sure,” he chuckles softly, grabbing his balaclava off the dresser. But he doesn’t put it on yet. Instead, he sits on the bed and watches you change.
You’re acutely aware of his eyes on you as you strip your shirt off. You keep your back to him, trying to ignore your racing heart. You don’t feel uncomfortable at all, instead you feel…excited. 
Your mind runs wild, imagining him stepping up behind you, kissing your neck and cupping your bare breasts in his big hands. They’re a little rough from his line of work and you wonder what they’d feel like against the sensitive skin of your tits, thumbing your nipples and pinching them a little meanly. 
“C-Can you hand me a bra?” you find yourself asking.
He grunts in acknowledgement and the bed creaks when his weight moves off it. He opens one of the drawers and is behind you in a second. His body heat permeates through his shirt as he presses his chest against your back. 
He slings your bra over your shoulder, holding it with one finger by the strap. You can’t help but tilt your head back to look up at him. He’s towering over you, pretty, brown eyes looking down his nose at you. 
You realize in this position, he could clearly see your breasts but he keeps his eyes on yours. You take the bra from him and he lets you, simply staring into your eyes with that stern silence he has about him.
“T-Thanks…” you find yourself whispering, mouth feeling particularly dry.
He grunts, lips quirked up just a bit before he turns his back and walks back to the bed. You let out a quiet, slow breath, willing your heart rate to go back to normal.
Simon was so exhilarating. Just being around him sets your heart racing and fingers trembling. 
You put your bra on and slip your top over your head, ignoring the sticky feeling in your panties as you do. 
“I don’t know, Si,” you mutter, turning to face him, “I-It’s a little tight on me now.”
The fabric once hugged you nicely but now it was snug. It molded around your breasts, even showing the lines of your bra. The neckline was low, giving a good show of cleavage – it didn’t help that Simon picked one of your more well padded bras. 
Simon looks up, his eyes immediately falling to your breasts. He sucks in a quick breath and looks away, licking his lips.
“Looks fine,” he mutters, standing to pull one of the drawers open again. He searches for a second, brows furrowed until he pulls out the jeans he was talking about. The ‘nice jeans’ as he called them, were just some low rise jeans you’d only worn about 4 times.
You look dumbly at them as he drops them into your hands.
“These?” you scoff, “Simon, I can’t–”
He quiets you with a kiss to your forehead, “Trust me, love.”
He steps out of the room after that, leaving you to your own devices. You’re thankful that you can change your panties without him seeing how saturated and sticky they’ve become because of him. You bury them in the laundry basket and remind yourself that you should do the laundry before he does because you’d be mortified if he found them. 
You don’t even look at yourself in the mirror, afraid you’ll feel too self-conscious if you see what you look like. But you trust Simon’s judgment on what he thinks would look good on you – and you can’t deny that dressing up how he likes feels nice. 
You step into the living room, intent on pulling your shoes on when Simon catches you with an arm around your waist. You gasp as he turns you to face him.
“You look lovely,” he whispers, smoothing his hands up your sides, thumbs slipping under the hem of your shirt to stroke your skin.
You swallow thickly as your heart starts racing in your chest again. He leans down and pecks your lips but pulls back before you have the chance to kiss back. 
“Let’s go,” is all he adds before walking away, leaving you no choice but to follow like the lovesick puppy you are. 
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Walking into the bar, your heart pounds painfully in your chest from pure anxiety. Your hand is clasped tightly in Simon’s as he easily moves through the crowd. You suppose his height makes it easy to see over people. 
“You alright?” he asks, leaning down to whisper in your ear.
“Haven’t been in a bar since I worked at…” you trail off, giving him a half-hearted shrug.
“If you wanna leave, just say the word,” he mutters, giving your hand a squeeze.
“N-No,” you shake your head, shooting him a wobbly smile,”I wanna meet your team at least.”
He smiles reassuringly and gives your hand a tug to encourage you to follow him. He leads you right to a table situated in a corner, three men laughing and drinking. 
“There he is!” the one with the mohawk cheeks, holding up his pint in celebration.
“Shut up, Soap,” Simon grumbles petulantly as he pulls out a chair for you.
Soap, you note to yourself. You know them by name but you’ve never actually seen the faces to put to them. Soap looks like you imagined, a broad grin and pretty, bright eyes – you imagined them green but they’re blue. 
“And who is this lovely companion of yours, Simon?” an older man with a hat and mutton chops asks with a kind smile, eyes on you.
Simon says your name before he sits down with a grunt beside you.
“Price,” your boyfriend supplies when you look curiously at him.
The man in question holds out a hand which you take and softly shake, “Nice to meet you.”
“Had no idea Lt. had someone waitin’ for him at home,” Soap says, a teasing lilt in his voice. 
So you’ve met Soap, Price, and that leaves; your eyes land on the quiet guy sitting back in his chair, a cool smile on his lips. He meets your gaze and his smile broadens – not teasing like Soap’s but purely kind.
“You can call me Kyle,” he gives you a polite nod.
“Gaz, then?” you question, tilting your head to the side. Kyle looks surprised, eyes flicking to Simon who shifts uncomfortably in his chair, “He’s talked about all of you before. I only know your call signs though.”
“John will do fine if you’d like,” Price says, tipping his beer back to take a chug.
“Simon calls me Johnny,” Soap adds, “You’re welcome to as well. Anyone important to the Lieutenant is important to us.”
Out of the corner of your eye you see Simon roll his eyes. It makes you smile. He leans over, nudging you with his knee, “You want anything to drink? I need one.”
“No thank you, Si,” you reply, intent on having a clear head for the night. You’ve never been much of a drinker anyway. 
When Simon’s gone from the table, you suddenly feel incredibly out of place. Price and Kyle have the decency to not stare you down but Soap seems keen on keeping his baby blue’s right on you and a goofy little smile on his face.
“Um…” you shift uncomfortably as you look back at him.
“We’ve never gotten to meet anyone from Ghost’s private life before,” Soap says, saving you from having to think of what to say, “Just shocked s’all.” 
“You’re gonna start giving the poor thing the creeps with your ugly mug,” Kyle chuckles which also makes Soap laugh.
“Sorry about that,” Soap lifts his glass and cheers to you before tipping it back. 
He grimaces slightly as it goes down before slamming his glass back on the table.
“It’s alright,” you respond, “Si’s not really the open book kind. So I understand.”
“How long have the two of you known each other?” Kyle asks.
You find yourself wondering where the hell Simon even is but answer regardless, “Since we were kids. Um, we lived next door. His mom and mine were friends, I guess.”
Soap nods his head, elbows on the table as he gives you his full attention, “You guess?”
You hum, “I’m 3 years younger than Simon. The way it was told to me by my mom is that…his mom came over and,” you couldn’t fight back the smile as you recalled the story.
“Oh this has got to be good,” Soap nudged Kyle excitedly at your grin.
“Told my mom that Simon didn’t have any friends and that he was a…soft-hearted boy and she wanted him to have some friends,” you giggle, holding a hand in front of your face to hide your laughter, “So she wanted to set up playdates with me even though I was still a baby. My mom didn’t have the heart to tell her no.”
Soap tosses his head back and laughs, “No fuckin’ way.”
“I’m shocked to say it but that actually makes him sound cute,” Kyle adds, unable to hide the laughter in his voice either.
“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Price says, but there’s a smile on his face, “Simon’ll knock you out cold on this table.”
“So you and Simon have been together since?” Kyle asks, glass cupped in both hands.
You nod, “Only time we’ve been apart is when he enlisted and had to go off for a few years to train.”
Soap opens his mouth to say something but a large figure finally drops down into the seat next to you. Simon has a glass of bourbon and a glass that he slides over to Soap who catches it with ease.
“Thanks, Lt,” he nods, taking a sip before making that disgusted face again.
“What are you lot talkin’ about?” Simon asks, drumming his fingers against his glass.
“We were discussin’ all your dirty secrets,” Kyle teases with a charming grin.
“Nothin’ too damning I hope,” Simon huffs before he takes a large gulp of his drink. 
The other three men all hide their grins behind their glasses. 
The anxiety you had felt at the beginning of the night is long gone. The task force is full of jokes and laughs and even Simon seems like a different person. 
With you, he’s kind and even soft. He’s by no means gentle or patient. 
But this side of Simon is so jovial and comfortable that it warms your heart to see. He drinks a few glasses and by the end of the night, he’s got a relaxed, lidded look in his eyes that lets you know he’s got a bit of a buzz going on. 
“It was lovely to meet you,” Price says when you all walk out of the bar.
“I really enjoyed meeting all of you as well,” you smile, letting Simon tuck you into his side with an arm wrapped around your waist.
“Get him home safe,” Soap teases, your smile only widening when you hear Simon huff in annoyance. 
You bid goodbye to the three of them and make your way to the car with Simon, plucking his keys out of his hand and forcing him into the passenger seat despite his grumbled protests of how ‘he’s not that drunk’.
When the two of you finally get into your apartment, you let him lock up and turn out the lights while you go to the bedroom and get ready for bed. 
“You looked really nice tonight,” Simon mutters when he finally walks in as you crawl into bed, “I’m glad you liked them.”
“I’m glad they liked me,” you huff, leaning back into the pillows, “They were all really nice guys.”
“Yeah,” Simon hums, tugging his shirt off of his head, taking his mask with it, “They’re good people.”
You nod your head and tuck your knees to your chest while he gets undressed. He slips on a plaid pair of pajama pants and shoves the drawer closed with his hip before yanking the blanket back to make room for his large body. 
You bounce a little on the bed when he drops his weight onto it. He smacks his pillow a couple times before he lays back and sighs. It’s clear he’s still a little buzzed from the way he fights to keep his eyes open.
“Simon?” you ask, turning to face him. 
That makes his eyes open back up before he looks at you, “What?”
“Can I kiss you?” you ask. 
He snorts and it makes you smile. He reaches out and wraps his hand around the back of your head. You let him tug you down, pressing your hands against his firm chest as you kiss him. 
His hand travels down your back as he sighs into your mouth. You pull away briefly to look into his eyes before you kiss him again, this time deepening it as much as you’re able. Simon sighs contentedly, his other hand coming up to caress your arm. 
“I like kissin’ you…” you find yourself whispering against his lips.
He groans at that, the sound going straight to your core. You feel yourself clench around nothing, already starting to leak into your panties. 
“Yeah?” he coos, cupping your cheek, thumbing over your lips, “You can kiss me all you want, love.”
You whimper, surging down to kiss him again. His hands grip your waist, intermittently squeezing you, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. 
Suddenly, you feel the warm, slick slide of his tongue against your lips. You whimper and pull back, brows furrowed.
“Shh, love,” he coos, pulling you close again, “Jus’ relax and let me…”
You huff, struggling to catch your breath as he urges you to meet his lips again. You feel his tongue again and eagerly open your mouth, letting him taste the inside of your mouth. You shyly meet his tongue with yours and feel his grip on your waist tighten as he groans in his throat. 
You’re sure you’ve soaked well through your panties by now. There’s an ache in your clit that you long to reach down and relieve – or better yet, have Simon relieve. 
You bet his fingers would feel so damn good against you. You find yourself whimpering into the kiss at the thought alone. Simon lets out a husky laugh into your mouth before pulling away. 
A string of spit connects your lips before it breaks and vanishes. 
With a surge of confidence, you toss your leg over his waist. He grunts when your weight settles on his hips, on his cock. It’s chubbed up against his thigh from kissing you and he knows you can feel it. 
“What’re you doin’, baby?” he huffs, unable to stop his hands from traveling up the front of your body. 
You grab his wrist and boldly slide it under the hem of your shirt. He bites his lip to keep from moaning when he feels your bare breast fill his palm. You see the way his eyes start to roll back before he looks at you again. It makes you throb in your panties and you can’t resist grinding against him a little before he grabs your waist and stops you.
“Si…” you whimper, pressing your hands against his chest, “‘S wrong?”
“Can’t,” he clears his throat and sinks into the bed, “Can’t do this, love.”
“Why not?” you ask, feeling a pit of disappointment in your gut, “You don’t want to? I just thought…”
You feel your face burn with humiliation as you slide off of his lap. Simon lets you, simply laying there on his back, eyes closed and a knit between his brows, as he evens his breathing out. You fight back tears as you sit there, biting the inside of your lip anxiously. 
“Not…not tonight, sweetheart,” he finally says, reaching over to pet your hair, “Been drinkin’ ‘nd I want to be sober for it, yeah?”
It would have been a solid excuse if it didn’t sound so flimsy coming from his lips. Like he doesn’t even believe it himself. 
“Yeah…” you offer, giving him a wobbly smile before turning out the light. 
You’re too embarrassed to cuddle into him that night. 
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“Can I ask you something?” you find yourself muttering as you relax on the couch with him, watching some old movie he picked out, “As long as you promise not to get mad.”
He snorts, taking a sip of his tea, “Won’t get mad.”
“I just want to know…” you clear your throat and sit up straight a little more, going over the question in your head, “Why did you leave that night…leave like that, just to have sex?”
He tenses up immediately, you can feel it. He shifts where he sits, spreading his legs just a little wider so he can sink deeper into the couch, “We already talked about this.”
You wince at his clipped tone, knowing you’re stepping into dangerous territory, “I know but…I want to know the real reason.”
He catches his bottom lip between his teeth and sighs, keeping his eyes trained on the TV, “You think I was lyin’ to you?”
Now he sounds mad. You quickly shake your head, “No, Si. I-I’m not trying to start a fight, I swear. I don’t think you were lying. I just think you…weren’t telling me everything.”
He sighs. You can see the way his jaw ticks when he clenches it, “Is that right?”
“Yeah,” you breathe, scooting a little closer to him, placing your hands on his chest, smoothing his shirt down a bit, “It was just…out of character for you, Si. I was really upset and you knew that. It wasn’t like you to just…leave. Just to get laid.”
He finally looks at you, just out of the corner of his eye. You meet the look, offering him an encouraging smile to show that you’re not upset or anything. 
“All night,” he finally mutters, “You’d been kickin’ in your sleep. Kept wakin’ me up.”
You nodded, a look of confusion on your face. You had no idea where this was going.
“You started sayin’ my name,'' he continued, “Moanin’ my name. Fuck, it was drivin’ me crazy.”
Your face flushes hot when you hear that. It all suddenly comes rushing back to you – what you’d been dreaming about. 
“You threw your leg over mine and I could–” he cuts himself off, his throat moving with how hard he swallows.
“Could what?” your voice comes out shockingly breathy. 
He catches it, looking at you. You can see the way his pupils widen immediately when he meets your gaze. It’s like he can see right through you, see the fact you’re dripping into your panties again. Just from this conversation alone. 
“I could feel how fuckin’ wet you were,” he brings a shaky hand up and runs it through his hair before he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Couldn’t fuckin’ deal with it. I had to…let it out somehow.”
“So you knew that I wanted you…like that?” you find yourself asking.
He scoffs and shakes his head, “Didn’t think about it like that. Figured it was just a dream and that’s all it was.”
“Wasn’t just a dream,” you assure, scooting closer to him.
Simon’s breath catches in his throat when you lean over him, resting your hand on the arm rest on his other side, letting it support your weight. You stand on your knees, making you just a little taller than him before you lean down and kiss him. 
He remains completely still, like he’s processing. His hands flounder in the air for a second before he’s carefully pushing you to sit back down. You slump against your heels and look at him, perturbed.
“Why..?”
“I need to make dinner,” he says lamely. 
“Simon…” you admonish, knowing he’s lying. 
He gets up, knees cracking as he does. He winces a little bit before he bends down to pick up the blanket that fell to the floor when he stood. You kept your eyes on him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. You almost let him go but before you can stop him, you grab his arm. 
“I don’t know what I’m doing, Simon,” you mutter, “I keep trying to make things go further with you but I just keep making a fool of myself and I–”
“‘S not you,” he assures softly, taking your hand in his, “‘S all me, baby.”
“So why…” you frown, “I want you.”
He shakes his head, “Night you told me how you felt. You sounded scared.” 
You remember, the way his touch had made anxiety fill you. You had wanted him, of course, but for some reason it had just been so damn awful at the same time. You hadn’t really dwelled on why that was. 
“It wasn’t ‘cause of you, Si,” you assured, shifting so your feet were on the floor rather than under you, “I promise. I-I was just nervous, I think. That’s all.”
“I don’t want…” he licks his lips, seemingly thinking over his next words carefully before he says them slowly, “I don’t to hear you sound like that with me again. ‘S why I’ve been avoidin’ it. ‘Cause I don’t want you to get scared again.”
You shake your head, rising to your feet, stepping in front of him. You take his hands in yours and squeeze them, “I don’t want to make a fool of myself with you, Simon.”
He frowns, “You know I would never think poorly of you.”
You smile and shrug, “I know that. I think…that time was just…too soon. After that night at the bar and everything that happened. And then the fact I’m so inexperienced that it’s laughable. I think…I just wasn’t ready for it. I needed to go at my own pace and I have been.”
“I don’t want you to push yourself,” he hums, “I know that night at the bar was terrifying,” he brings a hand up to brush over your cheek, “I understand if you’re not goin’ to be ready for a long time. It’s normal to not be ready after what happened to you.”
You huff, “I’ve been trying to show you that I’ve been ready for a while now, Si. I was anxious at first, yes. But now it’s…like a good kind of nervous.”
“A good kind of nervous?” he mutters, hands moving to your hips to pull you closer. Your breath hitches in your throat and you nod dumbly, “Tell me all about it.”
“L-Like my heart races,” you breathe, “And I feel scared that I’m gonna do something silly and embarrassing but like I want to learn and…and I want to do good for you.”
“Fuck,” Simon groans, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder, “Can’t say shit like that to a man like me, love.”
“Why not?” you whimper, feeling your knees tremble in excitement when you feel his hands start to wander.
“‘Cause…” he whispers, running his hands up your sides, “Makes me think some nasty shit, sweetheart.”
You swallow thickly at the promise in his voice, “Simon…” 
You sound so wrecked already and it makes him moan softly in your ear, “Tell me about it, baby.”
Just like that, you’re spilling your guts to him, “Get so wet for you, Si, all the time. I want you so bad that it hurts.”
“Yeah?” he breathes, finally pulling his head from where he was hiding in your shoulder, tilting your chin up, “Where’s it hurt, baby? Hm? Right in that needy little cunt?”
You whimper immediately, looking up at him with wide, hazy eyes and nod, “T-Tried to touch myself. Thinkin’ about you made it hurt so I couldn’t help myself. Thought about you when I did.”
He hums as you babble to him but his mind latches onto one particular word, “Tried, baby? What do you mean "tried?”
Your cheeks burn hot at the slip up. Would he think you were silly for it?
“C-Can’t do it right,” you confess softly, hoping he doesn’t see how embarrassed you are, “Try so hard but n-nothin’ ever happens.”
Simon moans at that. Loud and unbridled, “What’re you sayin’, baby? That you can’t make yourself cum, s’that it?” You shake your head bashfully, “Fuckin’ hell. That’s adorable.”
“D-Don’t tease me, Si,” you whimper but the seat of your panties is so fucking wet that it’s sticking to you. 
He hums, a predatory smile spreads across his face, “Am I bein’ mean, love?” You nod your head, tearfully staring up at him. It only makes his smile widen, canines popping out, “‘M sorry. Can’t help myself when you tell me ‘bout how you touch your pretty little pussy and just can’t make yourself cum like you need. Think I can do it for you, hm? Want me to try and make you cum?”
You vigorously nod your head, uncaring how fucking needy you look to him. He’s offering to give you what you’ve wanted for years – to give you a real, honest to God orgasm. And you weren’t going to let this chance slip away. 
“Want you on the bed,” he suddenly whispers, “On your back, lose the pants but keep everything else on.”
With a jerk of his head in the direction of the bedroom, you take off. You hear him chuckle behind you at your excitement. He makes sure the door is locked before he heads back to the bedroom. 
You’re there just like he asked, pants pooled on the floor, leaving you in nothing but an old t-shirt of his and a pair of the cutest little lilac colored panties he’s seen. You’ve got your knees pinned together, clenching your thighs but laying perfectly still in waiting for him. 
“So fuckin’ good for me,” he praises, grinning when you whimper and tremble at his words, “Oh, sweet thing likes to be praised, huh?”
You nod your head, “Wanna be good for you, Si.”
“That’s sweet, baby,” he coos, reaching to the back of his collar so he can tug his shirt off of his head. 
Your heart hammers away in your chest when he crawls onto the bed, hands on either side of your head. He looks so big like this, on top of you, completely blocking any view you had of your ceiling and instead filling your viewline with just him. He leans down and kisses you, humming contentedly when you eagerly kiss back. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders as he uses one hand to tug your legs open so he can slot himself between them. 
You cry out when he presses himself against your core. He’s wearing nothing but his jeans but you can feel the heat radiating through the thick material. 
“Shit, look at that,” he whispers, leaning back on his heels to admire the nice little wet patch that has stained your panties, “You already this wet, baby?”
“Kissin’ you always makes me this wet, Si,” you sweetly confess and oh, you are just so precious. 
His hands slide up your stomach, moving your t-shirt up and up until it sits crumpled under your chin. Your tits are bare and move with every gasping breath that you take. 
Simon’s hands are just as rough and warm as you’d expect them to be. His thumbs come up and glide over your nipples until they harden into stiff little peaks for him. 
Then his mouth is wrapping around one, swirling his tongue around it before pulling off with a lewd pop. His hand pinches the other nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he listens to you whimper and sigh. 
“Please, Si,” you whine, “I-It hurts, please.”
“It hurts?” he hums, leaving a fleeting kiss against the nipple his tongue was torturing just a moment ago, “Where? Hm?”
His hand travels down your body, cupping your cunt through your panties. You gasp, arching your hips just a bit to grind against his palm. He lets you, before he meanly pins your hips down with his other hand. 
“Where, love?” he smooths the pad of his thumb over the seam of your cunt through your panties. The fabric is saturated with your slick, letting him see every part of you through shape alone. His thumb finds your clit, the little bud poking out through the fabric from how hard and swollen it's become, “Here? ‘S it your pretty clit that hurts, love?”
You nod, eyes rolling back in your head when he presses his thumb against the bud, trapping it under his finger so he can roll mean little circles over it. You’d be mindlessly rutting your hips by now if he didn’t have his other arm slung over your hips to keep you pinned nice and still like he wants. 
It already feels so different than when you touched yourself. Maybe because it’s him or maybe because he’s so experienced. 
That thought makes you equal parts jealous and equal parts turned on. He’d slept with plenty of people but now he was using that expertise to make you feel good. 
“Can you take them off, please?” you whine, pitchy and sweet from arousal. 
“Asked so sweetly for me,” he coos, hitching his thumbs into the band of your panties before giving them a firm tug. 
You quickly lift your hips, letting him tug them down and off of your feet. You expect him to toss them away but instead he holds them up, thumbing over the slickness in the crotch. You watch him with wide eyes as he analyzes it. Your  breath hitches when he suddenly brings them towards his face and licks a wide stripe of the fabric, moaning when he gets a good laste of your syrupy sweet slick.
“Simon!” you gasp – admonish, leaning up to snatch them out of his grasp. 
His eyes open, he hadn’t even realized he’d closed them, to look at you. He licks his lips like a dog licking its chops when it tastes something real delicious. 
He doesn’t even comment on what he just did or the pure embarrassment that is written all over your face. Instead, he grips underneath your knees and yanks you down the bed towards him so your hips are situated in his lap. 
“Jus’ let me touch you, love,” he whispers, “I’ll work a nice little orgasm out of you in no time, yeah?”
You nod your head because you trust him. You know he’s going to be able to give you what you need so badly. You don’t even question it – especially when you feel how good it feels when he uses his thumbs to spread your folds open for him. He groans when he sees the sticky strings of slick that display just how turned on you are. 
Pretty little hole clenching sporadically around nothing, dribbling more creamy arousal that makes his tongue feel like lead in his mouth. A pretty clit that twitches and throbs under his scrutinizing gaze. But you make no move to cover yourself and hide from his gaze. 
He finally touches the bud directly and it’s like electricity strikes through you. You lose control of your body as your back arches and your thighs violently twitch. Your cheeks burn when you hear him chuckle softly at your reaction.
“Sensitive,” he huffs, a crooked little grin on his face as he brushes his thumb over your clit again, garnering the same reaction as before from you, “Fuck, can’t believe you’re this sensitive and can’t make yourself cum.”
“‘S cause it’s you, Si,” you sweetly confess.
And it’s true. Having him touch you like this directly – feeling his callused skin over the most sensitive little part of you is euphoric. It doesn’t feel anything like when you touch yourself at all. It feels magnified, you feel like a live wire and everything feels like too much. But you don’t do anything to impede him because you trust him more than anything – especially like this, with your body. 
He replaced his thumb with his middle finger, prodding at your entrance. You almost think he’s going to press inside you but he doesn’t – instead, he gathers your slick up on his finger and drags it up to your clit. He softly circles the bud, cock kicking against his thigh when you sigh and croon so sweetly for him. 
Your cunt makes sticky noises as he continues doing this, gathering your arousal and lathering your precious bud up with it so he can so softly play with it. His touches aren’t enough to actually work you to the edge, it’s much too slow and soft but it feels good. He waits for you to relax against the bed, lashes fluttering as you whimper and twitch on the bed for him.
“There you go, sweetheart,” he whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss against your trembling thigh, “Relax f’me. Want you nice and soft for me so I can get my fingers in this tight little cunt.”
You gasp at that, partly in excitement and also in apprehension. You’ve never actually put anything inside yourself before – except once, you put your finger in and it burned so you never tried it again. 
“D-Dont…” you find yourself muttering, making him freeze. He thinks you’ve changed your mind, anxiety getting the better of you and he’s fully prepared to propel himself away from you at a moment's notice, “Be gentle, okay?”
His gaze softens when he looks at you, “Won’t hurt you, love. I promise.”
You remain relaxed for him when he carefully prods you with his middle finger. He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, not rubbing it or anything, just keeping a nice pressure that keeps you sagged against the pillows. 
It doesn’t feel anything like when you tried that one time with yourself. Everything is so much wetter and more pliant. It’s like your walls just suck the digit in, even though it’s so much bigger than your own finger. 
You sigh softly when you finally have something to clench around. Simon gives you a sweet kiss to the spot right underneath your belly button in silent praise. He keeps his lidded, brown eyes on your face, watching every little expression you make with rapt attention. 
He slowly and carefully fucks his middle finger into you, feeling the way you slowly relax around him, soaking his skin with your arousal. He smooths his free hand up the length of your body, abandoning your clit to wrap his palm around your breast. You place your own hand over his, encouraging him to squeeze harder. 
“How’s that feel, love?” he asks, still sliding his finger in and out of you.
“Okay…” you reply, keeping your hand over his on your chest, “But it…um…”
“What?” he urges, “Tell me what you feel.”
“I-It feels nice but…” you trail off and he hums, nodding his head.
“Doesn’t feel good?” he finishes for you. You nod your head and he laughs softly, “I know, baby. Jus’ tryin’ to get you used to the feeling and then I’ll make it feel real good, alright?”
“Okay,” you whisper but he can tell you’re not too convinced that it’s going to feel much better.
You’re worried that the same thing is going to happen – it’ll feel really good and then you’re never going to be able to climb over that wall. You hate to imagine disappointing him, failing to get off. You’d hate for him to put all this work in and you just can’t cum in the end. 
“Hey,” he coos, “Get out of your head, pretty. Don’t worry about a thing, alright?”
You take a deep breath and slowly let it out, allowing yourself to relax against the bed again. Simon waits for you to be nice and pliant around his finger before he starts to fit his ring finger alongside it. He catches sight of the furrow in your brow when he stretches you around two of his fingers. It burns but when Simon brings his thumb back to your clit, tapping against the bud, it vanishes. Your thighs twitch and you whimper, walls clenching in time with the little taps until the burning vanishes completely.
“There we are,” he praises, “Knew you could do it, sweetheart.”
“A-Are you gonna add another?” you find yourself asking.
“Later,” he responds, scissoring the two fingers he has snug inside your cunt, “‘M a big man, love. Gonna need you nice and stretched for me.”
You whimper at that, walls clenching around his fingers as he slowly begins to fuck them in and out of you. Your cheeks burn when you hear the loud, squishing noises your hole makes every time he stuffs them back inside. 
After a moment of just getting you used to being stretched on two of his thick digits, he suddenly crooks them up and hits something inside you that makes your back arch. It causes a tingling feeling that you’ve never experienced to heat your tummy every time he touches it.
“Simon!” you squeal, trying to clench your thighs closed but his broad shoulders keep them open, “Th-That feels-!”
“I know, baby,” he coos cockily, grinding his fingertips against that little spot that makes you so gooey and creamy around his fingers, “Feels real good right there, I know.”
Your back arches and your jaw drops. You can’t do anything but moan and cry out as he fucks against that spot. He’s urged on by your sounds of pure pleasure, eyes flicking between where he’s got your pretty cunt spread open and the euphoric expressions you can’t do anything to hide.
It’s so precious, seeing you so open and loud for him. You don’t do anything to hide your sounds of pleasure nor do you even think of faking any of them for his sake. Every little thing you’re feeling, you express, and you can’t help yourself because it’s all so new and so much.
That hot, tingling feeling in your core only intensifies with every experienced stroke of his fingers. Your eyes are rolling back every time he touches that magnificent spot inside you, abusing it with his fingers until your walls are soft and malleable for him again.
And then he brings his index finger into it. He’s even more slow and careful as he fits it in beside the other two fingers. It doesn’t burn like when he had given you his second finger but it’s a certain stretch that simply feels strange. 
He gets you stuffed open on his three fingers, up to the third knuckle. You’re spread so wide and squeeze his fingers so tight that it makes him moan when he thinks about what it will feel like around his cock. 
If you’re this tight around just his fingers then you’re going to feel positively euphoric around him. 
“Simon…” you coo, reaching down to card your fingers through his hair. 
He grunts in acknowledgement, but is unwilling to part his gaze from the sight of the creamy mess you’ve begun to leave on his fingers. Your pretty clit is twitching and so swollen, glistening from your juices and he suddenly has the inescapable desire to wrap his mouth around it. 
You’re not even looking when he decides to do it. It’s like he can’t stop himself. 
All you feel is something wet and hot wrap around the little bud. You practically wail at the feeling of his tongue sliding against it. Your feet kick aimlessly, hitting his back and shoulders as you flail beneath his body. 
You sob his name, yanking harshly on his hair in a way that hurts but he’s not going to stop you. He knows it’s mean to do this, not even warning you or easing you into the feeling before he’s suckling your clit. His tongue slips in circles around it, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. His ears practically ring from how loud you’re crying out for him. 
His three fingers remain buried inside you but he’s hardly able to move them from how tight you’re squeezing them. All he can do is grind his fingers against your g-spot but it only makes your pretty body more twitchy and makes you squirm even more beneath him. He has to hold you down so you can’t get away. 
He doesn’t want your precious pussy to be ripped away from him, your juices are making his taste buds tingle – you taste so damn good. 
That familiar heat begins to grow in your core – one you’ve experienced many times before by yourself. You cry and wail for him, sobbing his name and gripping his hair. 
“S-Si, don’t stop, please, please, please–” you choke on your own cries, slamming your head into the pillows as your back arches painfully hard. 
He grunts lowly, blonde lashes fluttering as he watches your body’s pure, unfiltered reactions to this pleasure. He knows you’re getting close, can feel you clenching around him and your clit pulsing on his tongue in time with your heartbeat. 
You feel yourself reaching that wall, the one you can never overcome. But it feels different this time, the pleasure isn’t slowing. It’s not fading like it always does when you’ve got your own fingers on your bud. 
It always seems to slip out of your grasp by this point.
This is it, you think. You’re going to cum. You’re finally going to fucking cum. 
Then everything stops.
His tongue is gone from your clit and his fingers are nowhere to be found. Simon’s shoulders rise and fall as he watches your face flicker through a range of emotions before your eyes fill with tears and you look at him – utterly pitiful and hopeless.
“Wh-Why…” you finally whisper, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. 
Your cunt pulses and throbs around nothing, the heat of your orgasm quickly dissipating, leaving that horribly empty and unsatisfying feeling in its wake. 
“Sorry, baby,” he coos, genuine and soft as he leans up to kiss your face, “That was mean, huh? ‘M sorry. Jus’ want you to have your first orgasm on a cock, love.”
That doesn’t do anything to quell your disappointment but you nod anyway, wiping away some stray tears that trickle from your eyes. 
“Please,” you breathlessly whisper, “Please, Simon. Want your cock, please. I-I was so close. It felt so good,” you start babbling, eyes falling to the hard outline of his cock in his jeans, “I wanna cum so bad, Si. Y-You promised. Please, just give me your cock. Please? Please? Simon!”
Simon’s mouth goes dry as he hears your babbled begging. Fuck, you’re absolutely aching for it. All you can think about is cumming. He never thought he’d get to hear you beg for him like this, so pathetically. You should be embarrassed, begging for cock like this when you’ve only just now gotten your first taste of being stretched open. Yet here you are fuckin’ crying for it.
His cock drools pre down his thigh, he can feel how wet his boxers have become from how much he’s leaking it. He’s aching in his jeans – he can’t pretend he doesn’t want it just as badly as you do.
“Shit, alright!” he snarls, wrapping a hand around your throat to force you to look at him. You gasp at the rough treatment, “Jus’ shut up and I’ll give it to you, yeah?”
You obediently nod your head, still staring up at him with those wide, teary eyes. He tries to act like his hands aren’t fucking trembling when he yanks his belt off. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this needy – this excited to get his cock inside a pussy. 
But it’s you. You’re special. 
He loves you. This isn’t like the one night stands and hookups he’s had in the past. This is different. 
He feels like a fumbling teenager the way he clumsily yanks his belt out of the loops and shoves his jeans down his thighs along with his underwear. His cock, big and heavy, hangs under its own weight – it never slaps up against his stomach. He wasn’t just chatting shit when he said he was a big guy. 
He wrapped his hand around himself, giving it a few, firm tugs. He feels your eyes on him, watching the way he touches himself and it sends heat through him. He scoots closer to you again, pulling back his foreskin to show the fat, leaky head that he meanly taps against your clit. 
You gasp a cute little ‘ah!’ when he does that brings a smile to his face. He can’t say he’s the best lay for a virgin because he’s so big and he’s a brute – it’s in his nature. But he’s trying his best for you. 
“Alright, baby,” he coos, leaning on one forearm above your head, draping his big body over yours. He easily manhandles you into position, caging your knees against your chest and wrapping himself around you, “Just relax for me, hm? Can you do that f’me?”
You nod your head and shakily put your hands on his shoulders, cupping his jaw to bring him down to kiss you. He sighs into your lips, using his free hang to grip the base of his cock, prodding against your hole. You’re so slippery that it slides out of you and slips up your clit. You whimper at the feeling, thighs twitching at the stimulation. 
When he finally starts to press inside, your nails bite into his shoulders. It stings – it hurts. He’s so big, making your poor little cunt burn the deeper he presses himself. The head pops in and your hips jump at the feeling, his cock slipping back out. 
He huffs, dropping his forehead against your shoulder, “Fuck, sit still.”
“S-Sorry!” you whimper, “I’m sorry!”
“Shh,” he sighs, kissing your cheek, “‘S okay, baby. Hurts, huh?”
“A little,” you whimper, trying to downplay it so he won’t stop.
He hums and presses a kiss against the corner of your mouth. He knows that working an orgasm out of you before making you take his cock would be the nice thing to do but he’s selfish. He wants to feel your orgasm around his cock – where you deserve to have it. 
It’s your very first orgasm after all. It needs to be good and he knows he can make it real good once he can get you speared on his cock. 
So he grips himself again, sitting up for just a moment to lewdly spit on your pussy. It hits your clit and trickles down where he catches it with the head of his cock. He leans over your body and starts to push in again. This time he tucks his arms under your shoulders and pins you impossibly against him, leaving you with nowhere to run when he starts to press into you. 
You whimper, feet kicking against his back when he pushes deeper than before – past the head. He knows it hurts, you’re stretched beyond your limit and he waits with bated breath for you to say the word and tell him to stop. 
But you don’t. 
You just grapple your arms around his waist and dig your nails in. His skin is sweaty by now and it makes getting any purchase on him difficult. You let out a watery little whimper that has him freezing. You’re speared on half his cock when he finally looks at you. 
Your eyes are teary and they slowly drip down your cheeks.
“Do you want to stop?” he asks, brushing some away with his thumb.
You immediately shake your head, no hesitation, “No! K-Keep goin’, Si.”
“Don’t cry, pretty,” he shushes, keeping his grip under your shoulders and his hips pinned firmly against yours so you can’t squirm when he starts pressing in again. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp, eyes fluttering from the ache that settles where he’s stretching you wide, “‘S okay, just take a deep breath. ‘M almost in, love, you’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me. Takin’ all of my cock so deep, just like you deserve. Hear me? This cock s’all yours now, yeah? Can have it whenever you need it.”
Your walls spasm around his cock as he talks, making him groan low in his chest. He’s almost there, can feel his balls starting to tap against you the deeper he gets until finally, his hips meet yours and you wail. 
He prods painfully against your cervix and he knows that it’s uncomfortable but he’s not willing to pull back just yet. He needs you to get used to being stretched and stuffed full of every inch of him. He takes care to do slow, gentle grinds, his pelvis catching your clit that eventually makes you relax. 
“That’s it,” he praises, “Just relax and let me make you feel good.”
He finally eases off of you, balancing his weight on his forearms on either side of your head, hovering over you. He slowly pulls his hips back, watching you slump against the bed when he finally stops pressing on your cervix. 
He finally starts fucking you, sliding his cock out just a bit before rolling his hips forward again. It's slow and soft, just testing the waters and getting you used to this new stimulation. 
It feels entirely different from his fingers. His cock is bigger, fills you so much more, touches deeper. 
His cock reaches spots deep inside you that his fingers didn’t even reach. But he’s permanently pressing against that spot his fingers were torturing. It feels so fucking good. 
Simon can see the way your eyes roll back as he carefully fucks you. Your first cock and you’re taking it so damn well. It makes him want to see how much more you can take but he knows he needs to ease you into it, he doesn't want to overwhelm you.
“Si…” you sigh softly, blinking as you struggle not to float off and become drunk with pleasure. 
“I know, pretty,” he coos, kissing your cheek before leaning back on his heels, fastening the thrusts of his hips. 
You can’t keep quiet now, mouth falling open to let out the most precious sounds of pure pleasure. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, like he’s hung the moon and stars in the sky just for you. His cock fucking throbs at the look of wonder that crosses your face. He knows you’re getting close, can feel how tight you’re clamping around him and he can see how much you’re creaming around him – making a mess at the base of his cock and in the thatch of curls there. 
“You gonna cum?” he coos, grinning when you shake your head, “Of course you are. I can fuckin’ feel it, baby. Know you got one for me, go ahead. Cum on my cock real nice, c’mon.”
“C-Can’t,” you whimper. It’s too much. You’re so wet. It’s fucking messy but you feel yourself at that damn wall, hanging on a thread and waiting for euphoria to come but it doesn’t, “Please! Simon! Please, I-I can’t! Please, please, please…”
“Fuck,” his hisses when he hears you begging to cum on his cock, “Come on then, baby. You can do it. Just let it go, let me fuck it outta you.”
You toss your head back into the pillows as a sob is ripped from your chest. As if he can sense how much you’re struggling, he brings his thumb down to press against your clit. Your eyes fucking roll, only the whites of them visible. You clench down around him like a vice and it only takes a couple little swipes of his thumb for you to tumble over the edge. 
It feels unlike anything you could have ever imagined. Pleasure soars through you and your hearing cuts out. It feels like you lose control of your body, unable to do anything but thrash and twitch as he fucks you through it. You’re not sure if you would prefer him to stop or keep going because it’s all so fucking much that it hurts. 
You’re gushing around him, drenching his cock in sticky, creamy cum that drips in thick strings down his balls. Holy fuck.
It feels like hours that you’re speared on his cock, cumming and cumming before it finally leaves you and you collapse against the bed. You’re still twitching, entire body shivering until he finally slows his thrusts to soft little rolls of his hips. He takes his thumb off of your clit and you’re thankful because it was starting to become unpleasant. 
You swallow despite how dry your mouth is, eyes finally focusing on him. His brows are furrowed and his bottom lip is tucked into his mouth. Pretty, brown eyes are locked on you and you suddenly feel shy. 
Had he been watching you the whole time? You hoped you didn’t make any ugly faces or embarrassing noises. 
“Fuck,” he coos, seemingly sensing your shame, “That was a fuckin’ orgasm, love.”
You’re panting, you realize. And you’re tired. You’ve never felt more relaxed in your life. 
All you can think is that you’ve been missing out on that your whole life? Now you’re not sure you’ll be able to even live without it ever again. 
Simon’s hands cup under your knees and pin them to your chest. You gasp as he bends you as he sees fit. You’re limp, so completely drunk on the pleasure you just experienced that you simply let him. 
But you realize he’s even deeper like this – and it doesn’t hurt like it did before. He’s pressing against your back wall and it actually feels good. You feel so sensitive inside, like you can feel every twitch of his cock. 
He’s still languidly dragging his cock in and out of you. It’s a fucking mess between your legs, you’ve cum so fucking much that it’s everywhere. He’s never been covered like this before and it’s fucking hot. 
Your cum sticks between the two of you in little strings that break and reform every time his hips meet and leave yours. Your little clit is puffy and swollen from your orgasm and he wants to press his thumb against it again but he knows the poor little thing is much too sensitive still. 
Your legs flop uselessly as he fucks you, eases you past overstimulation until you’re sweetly cooing for him again. He takes that chance to fuck you properly again, intent on finding his own orgasm deep in your cunt. 
His heavy balls slap against your ass. He wants to cum. He plans to make himself cum like this, just using your pretty pussy. But then he sees your eyes widen again and your lips part almost curiously and his eyes narrow.
“You feel it again, huh, sweetheart?” he goads, shifting his weight on his knees so his hips are pressed even closer to yours. 
“C-Can’t,” you whisper, the same thing you had before. But it’s different now, “W-Won’t be able to, Si.”
“S that a challenge, love?” he teases, a crooked little smile on his face. You sleepily shake your head, “Hmm, I think I can fuck another one out of you. One orgasm won’t be enough, two is a good number for now. Until I train this little cunt to cum for me all night long.”
You whimper, reaching out the claw at his forearms where he pins your knees to your chest. You’re held so uselessly open, cunt completely vulnerable to his fat cock stuffing you full. His pelvis hits your clit in a way that makes the little bud tingle and your cunt clenches pathetically around him with every thrust he gives you. 
Sweet little ‘ah, ah, ah’s’ are punched from your lungs every time he sinks completely inside. He’s gripping your knees harshly, squeezing where he has a grip as his own orgasm starts to creep up on him but he’s going to give you another orgasm. He has to make you cum again, to see you lost in pleasure like that once more. He knows that will push him over the edge, give him what he needs. He wants to cum with you, fill you up while you’re in the throes of pure pleasure that only he has ever given you. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps, fighting the feeling of his own eyes rolling back in favor of watching you. 
He loves the way you wear everything you feel on your face. From the looks of wonder when it feels really good to the little rolls of your eyes when he makes it hurt just a bit. It’s so cute. 
Makes him want to play around with that little part of you – be a little mean to you. 
“Cum,” he growls, fighting his own orgasm down, “Fuckin’ cum right now.”
“I can’t!” you wail, kicking against his hold on your knees, pressing down to spread you open even further. 
His hips slam against yours, loud slaps and slick noises of your gooey cunt filling his ears, “You can. You will. Cum, sweetheart. You better fuckin’ cum.”
But you shake your head. It’s so close, you can feel it. It’s creeping up on you and you want it so bad. You want to feel that pleasure again. But you’re not even sure you’re going to be able to cum again, it feels so much more sensitive than before. It’s too much. 
Simon bares his teeth, letting go of one of your legs to drift between your thighs. Your eyes widen, you think he’s going to rub it again – it’s so sensitive that you’re not sure you’ll be able to take it. 
But instead, he does something else.
You hear it before you feel it, a soft little slap followed by the feeling of being electrocuted. Simon watches you with lidded eyes to see how you react. Just like he expected, you wail and your body gives a mean twitch at the impact. 
So he does it again. 
And again. 
And again.
Not too hard, just enough for it to hurt a little bit. A sting against a terribly sensitive little bud. It’s mean – he’s mean. But he can’t fucking help it. 
He needs you to cum for him again.
“Cum,” he snarls, giving your clit another slap.
As if on command, it sends you over the edge. Your legs kick out and he has to abandon your clit to hold you down, pinning you harshly to the bed as he uses all his weight to fuck down into your spasming little cunt. You’re cumming so hard around him that you stop breathing. He hears the hitch of breath and doesn’t hear the exhale. All you do is lay there, cry for him and cum.
He finds his end just as violently, tossing his head back to moan into the room as cum erupts from his cock. His thrusts grow sloppy as he milks the orgasm out of himself, voice breaking as he whimpers from how fucking good it feels. 
Like no orgasm he’s ever experienced. It’s like he can’t stop cumming, filling you up so much that it oozes out from around his cock. 
You’re trembling underneath him when he finally comes down, tearfully gazing up at him with your mouth agape, struggling to catch your breath.
“N-No more,” you pathetically whimper, legs twitching from the aftershocks, “C-Can’t take anymore, Si.”
“Shh,” he shushes, letting your legs go so you can relax comfortably as he pulls his cock from your pussy.
It’s twitching and clenching sporadically, still coming down from your orgasm. It makes his cum drip out of your cunt, a mess that spreads to the already messy sheets. Your cum and his mix together to make a sticky, gooey mess that makes his mouth water. He wants to eat it up, stuff his tongue into your tight little hole and swallow it all down. 
But he can’t. Maybe next time, he vows.
His cock gives a valiant kick at the thought of getting to do this again. He sits on his heels, gazing at his messy cock as if softens. He feels dazed, almost drunk. 
Then he hears the softest little sniffle from you and his eyes snap up to your face to find your crumpled expression and tears falling down your face. You cover your face with your hands and earnestly begin to cry.
“Hey, it’s alright, love,” he coos, laying beside you to tuck you into his chest.
“I-I don’t know why I’m crying,” you sob, wrapping your arms around his waist as you cry into him. 
“It happens,” he assures, “It was a lot and you’re just a little overwhelmed s’all. Just let it out, baby.”
And you do, weakly sobbing into his chest until it feels like you can’t cry anymore. He holds you through it all, rubbing your back and cooing sweet nothings in your ear until you grow silent. 
“Alright, love?” he asks.
“S-Sorry, Si,” you sniffle, finally pulling out of the spot in his arms you were hiding in, “I-I don’t want you to think I didn’t want it or that it was bad. I just…”
He gives you a soft smile, leaning forward to kiss you. It’s short and sweet, “I don’t think that. Like I said, it happens. Sometimes people just cry after sex, nothin’ to worry about.”
“Are you sure?” you sniffle, wiping your cheeks dry when the tears finally stop.
“Positive,” he sits up, “Let’s get cleaned up, alright? We need to change the damn sheets, fuckin’ hell.”
You giggle as you look down at the sheets where a very visible dark spot is sitting where you once laid. You don’t even have time to be embarrassed before he’s swooping you off of the bed and escorting you to the bathroom.
It’s too small for both of you to fit but you make it work. He wipes you down with a warm cloth before hopping into the shower to rinse and clean himself before he gets out and lets you do the same. While you do that, he changes the bedding completely and replaces it with new sheets and blankets for the two of you to sleep in together. 
When you finally stumble into the bedroom, he wraps his arms around you and urges you onto the bed. You giggle as you flop onto the bed before he crawls in after you and covers the both of you up, wrapping himself around you until you’re tucked securely against him. 
“I take it you liked it?” he finally whispers.
You shyly nod, “I-It was um…fun.”
“Felt real good, huh?” he teases, grinning wolfishly when you whimper.
“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, “It felt really good. I already want to do it again.”
Simon groans, hugging you tightly before shaking his head, “You’re gonna be insatiable. Gonna give my cock a run for its money.”
You giggle, affectionately petting his hair before he looks at you with the softest expression you’ve ever seen. It’s like his eyes are sparkling in the low light of the bedroom. He leans forward and ever so softly kisses your forehead, then your nose, before he reaches your lips. He pecks them softly, pulling back for just a second before he kisses you again. 
“I love you,” he whispers, so soft that you almost miss it. 
And your heart begins to race. You almost struggle to find the words to reciprocate. But when you do, he smiles and tucks you against him again, big arms wrapped around you like a bear hug.
It’s almost surreal. You can’t believe you’re here after everything – with him. 
Like you’ve dreamed your whole life, he loves you just like you love him. 
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PART ONE.
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